Progression
by Sionnain
Summary: Life after Ascension is complicated, especially when lines begin to blur. Features RogueXMagneto, KittyXLance, and CharlesXJean, and a variety of other potentially disturbing things. Please note: This story may feature mature or adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Intolerable**

"Oh. It's _you_."

Rogue glared fiercely at Magneto as she walked into the kitchen, carrying her plate to the sink. It was late, nearly two in the morning. Why did _he_ have to be in here, of all people?

Rogue knew that the others thought Magneto was some kind of _good guy_ now that Apocalypse was old news. She didn't really agree with that idea, so she tried to spend as little time around their former enemy as possible. Because then maybe she wouldn't be so tempted to try and hurt him.

She was still pissed at him for that little incident over Christmas break last year when she'd gone with Scott to find Angel in New York. Everyone was so quick to accept Magneto around here that she wondered if they'd all _forgotten_ that. She'd expected Kurt to forgive Magneto—after all, she'd seen first hand that Kurt couldn't hold a decent grudge to save his life—but some of the others? Jean? Scott? The _Professor_? It sort of hurt her brain.

Kitty thought Rogue was being unfair, and just that morning had told her roommate she should give Magneto a chance. _People change, Rogue._

Rogue told Kitty that when someone threw _her_ into a building and tried to kill her with a large slab of metal, then they could talk about. Besides, Rogue wasn't too good at forgiveness, didn't everyone know that by now?

"It's late, Rogue. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Rogue really, really hated it when he tried to pretend like he was some kind of authority figure around here. She barely tolerated it from the Professor, so bucket-head was lucky she didn't go after him with her gloves off when he tried it. Which, thankfully, wasn't often.

"Shouldn't you be minding your own business?" She rinsed her bowl out and tried to ignore him standing next to her as she lathered up the sponge and began viciously attacking the spoon with it.

At least he didn't run around the mansion in that stupid cape and helmet, or else she'd really have to just laugh. He looked pretty normal in his black shirt and pants, which made his hair look very white, and if he weren't evil she might think he was a good looking man.

Of course she _didn't_ think that.

She'd never really noticed how much he looked like Pietro until she saw him dressed in normal clothes. That didn't help to make her like him at _all,_ though, because Pietro was such an _ass_.

"You don't like me much, do you?"

Rogue dropped the bowl in the sink and stared at him, incredulous. His light blue eyes looked very amused. "Gee, you think? I mean, I'm _real_ glad you helped us with Apocalypse and all, but I guess I'm a little wary since you tried to _kill me_."

Magneto shrugged and waved his hand. "I'm very sorry about that, Rogue, but I figured the young man with the wings would save you. A distraction technique, you understand, so that I could get away. I had plenty of other opportunities to kill you, and I didn't. Surely that means something?"

"Is that supposed to be, what? Reassuring?" She stared up at him challengingly. "Look, Magneto. You might have fooled everyone else around here into thinking you're harmless, but I know better, okay?"

"Do you?" He moved a little closer to her, which made her immediately nervous. "And who thinks I am harmless? I'm afraid that might offend me."

"Okay, so maybe _harmless_ ain't the right word. How about _reformed_? I touched you a few times, remember, got your mind up here?" She tapped the side of her head with a gloved finger. "You're just here at the mansion until you figure out what to do next, and the Professor's too naïve to realize it."

That last bit was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

He quirked a brow at her. "Oh? You think so, do you?" He smiled. "That's not a very flattering thing to say about my old friend and our gracious host. Your teacher, and…guardian, isn't he, as well?"

"I'm seventeen," Rogue snapped, annoyed. "I don't need a guardian. I don't need anyone," she said hotly. "I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can," Magneto said blandly, and levitated her spoon out of the sink. "You've washed this four times, don't you think it's clean by now?"

"Argh!" Rogue slammed her gloved hand down on the sink, hating that he could make her so _mad_. "Why are you tryin' to infuriate me?"

"Possibly because it's so very _easy_," Magneto answered, smirking. He had a really deep voice, which would have been nice if he wasn't…Magneto. She dried her bowl and put it away in the cabinet as he continued speaking. "So it's because of New York that you hate me, is it?"

She threw her hands up in the air. "Look. I think you're evil and arrogant and really, really annoying. You don't care about other people, you don't really want to be here, you're just waiting for a time when you can leave and you'll probably try and take half of us with you for some new stupid army. Oh, and I wouldn't put it past you to try and steal the Blackbird." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him—he was very tall. "That about cover it for you?"

Magneto's eyes flashed, and he moved suddenly to pin her against the counter with his lean height. His voice was no longer so benign when he spoke. "I think it does, Rogue. Now let me tell _you_ something. You might have touched me, might have a little of my mind in that pretty little head of yours," he growled, leaning in closer, "but you know _nothing_ about me. My reasons for being here are my own, girl, and they'll stay that way until I choose otherwise. Do you understand me?"

"I knew it," she breathed, and she went to pull her glove off. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape through her throat. "You're here for some evil reason after all."

"You don't know anything," he said smugly, and his hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her as she tried to pull her glove off. "I was most impressed when I heard about what you did to Mystique," he said conversationally. "How you pushed her off the cliff, even though she was your _mother_." He chuckled darkly. "That would have been most gratifying to see. She's caused me quite a few problems." 

"Yeah, well it didn't matter. She's still alive." Rogue tensed, staring warily at him. She was overly-conscious of the heat of his body in a way she couldn't really understand. "That's why you shouldn't piss me off," she growled, glaring up at him. "Or maybe I'll push _you_ off of somethin', too. And trust me. I might like it even more than I did when it was Mystique." 

He laughed softly, the sound vaguely sinister. "Indeed. I'll keep your vicious nature in mind, Rogue, never you fear." He yanked her closer to him. "You say I have ulterior motives for being here—do you?"

"None of your business," she answered, and she didn't understand why her voice was so breathless, or why she didn't just start shouting to arouse suspicion, or why she didn't just _fight_ him like she knew she could.

He smiled slowly, as if he knew somehow that she was intrigued with him despite herself by the simple fact she wasn't struggling in his grasp. "There's a lot I could teach you, young Rogue. Don't let your hatred of me get in the way of what you might learn." He lightly traced the white streak in her hair with his free hand.

Why was it suddenly so warm in here? "There ain't nothin' you know I want to learn," she protested, but her eyes were very wide as she met his and she didn't know if she sounded entirely sure about that.

"I wouldn't be so certain, if I were you," he murmured, and leaned his head down. 

_What the…pull away! What is he doing, he can't really be going to—_

He put his mouth very close to her ear. "You intrigue me, girl. Very much. What do you think of that?"

"That I should have hit you by now," Rogue answered honestly. She was so shocked she was momentarily unable to move.

"Maybe so. But I intrigue you. Don't you ever get tired of watching everyone use their powers while you have to be so careful to hide yours?" His fingers rubbed over the black gloves she was wearing. "Doesn't it make you _angry_?"

Rogue narrowed her eyes and turned her head so that her face was very close to his. "Stay away from me, Magneto, or I'll stop being so careful." She pulled back with all her strength, a little surprised when he let her go. Her wrist burned where he'd touched it.

He watched her with narrowed eyes, his face intent. "If that's what you want, Rogue," he murmured in that dark voice of his.

"Oh, it is," she snapped, and turned away to leave the kitchen, but for a horrifying moment she wondered if that was true.

"Let me know if you change your mind," he said quietly, and when she turned around to glare at him, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thank you so much to all of you for your nice feedback! I had intended to make this story a one-shot (it was originally titled "Intolerable") but have decided instead to continue it as a longer, chaptered work. The story will occasionally switch POV in later sections. I am so happy to see other fans of the Magneto/Rogue pairing, and I sincerely hope my upcoming chapters don't freak you all out as I have some rather unconventional pairings in mind for this one.

In this chapter, Rogue makes friends with a former enemy on the first day of school.

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**Chapter 2 **

Rogue put her books in her locker and slammed the door slightly harder than was necessary, a small indication of her displeasure in being back at Bayville High. After what had happened with Apocalypse, sitting though Math class seemed rather…juvenile. Pointless. She walked with Kitty through the hallways towards her English class, feeling oddly discontent. Though she supposed she _was_ happy that it was her senior year and then she'd be done with this place for good.

It wasn't that Rogue hated school. She didn't. She just hated the way they were treated, her and the other mutants, as if the administration was doing them some sort of _favor_ by allowing them to stay at Bayville. The students had alternated between teasing her and ignoring her last year, and this year didn't appear to be much different and it was the first _day_. It wasn't just her, either. The "normal" kids seemed to treat the rest of them like they were freaks.

_We saved y'all's life, and you can't even sit with us at lunch?_

What did they think she was going to do? Pull her gloves off and go crazy, rushing at them with her hands bare and waggling her fingers, laughing maniacally like some sort of comic book supervillain? As if she _wanted_ to have all those people in her head. As if—

"Um, Rogue? You're coming with me to history? Didn't know you liked it so much you'd want to go _twice_."

Rogue blinked, realizing that she'd by-passed her English class entirely and was still walking next to Kitty. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I'm just…distracted, I guess."

Kitty gave her a warm smile and patted her on the shoulder. "Yeah. It's so weird being here. Like, last month we saved the world, and now…" she waved her hand. "First day of class and we're back to having to take notes."

Rogue nodded. That Kitty understood her disquiet made her feel better, a little. At least it wasn't just _her_. "Gotta go. See you later." Just as she was about to turn around, Lance Alvers sidled up to Kitty and put his arm around her waist. Lance gave Kitty a slow smile, and Kitty blushed and smiled up at him charmingly. Rogue immediately headed back for her English class, rolling her eyes at the two of them.

If they were an item again—as it appeared they were—it was going to mean drama. Rogue thought she might not be spending a lot of time in her room for a while. Kitty and Lance liked to talk on the phone a lot, which meant they would _fight_ a lot. The two of them could have arguments about whether or not the sun was going to rise in the morning, even if they both agreed it would.

Rogue arrived at her classroom, her muscles protesting the change in position from standing to sitting as she slid into her seat. That morning during training in the Danger Room she'd taken quite a beating, which wasn't unusual as she was usually the weakest fighter among them no matter how hard she tried. She didn't have any long-range powers to protect herself, and she tried to avoid touching her teammates if she could help it.

Besides, the whole "I'll know your thoughts" thing sort of freaked them out. Rogue wondered how Jean and Professor X could stand to be telepaths. Then she remembered that they had _control_ over their powers, because they actually got to _use_ them, and she felt a little miffed that she didn't have those kinds of options.

Unbidden came the thought of Magneto, grabbing her in the kitchen. _There's a lot I could teach you, young Rogue._ He'd been in the training session that morning, leaning casually against the metal wall of the room as he'd watched them run through the scenario. She'd felt his cold eyes on her when she'd fallen to the floor, and when she'd looked up, he'd been staring at her with a little smug smile on his face.

Rogue scowled at the memory, then shifted her attention to Pietro Maximoff who was seated a few seats over near the window. She studied him covertly, trying to ascertain the similarities he shared with his father. She wondered briefly what he thought about Magneto living at the Mansion, if he liked living in that filthy house south of town with no supervision.

Pietro's hair was the same shock of white as Magneto's, but Pietro's eyes were dark like his sister's. He had his father's chin, similar cheekbones, and the same sort of sardonic expression on his face that Rogue associated with Magneto. Pietro was leaning back in his seat, talking to Toad (how in the hell had Toad managed to pass last year with all those absences? Rogue wondered if maybe Principal Kelly was trying to get them out as fast as possible and just didn't care that Tolansky was never in class), gesturing wildly and laughing loudly every so often.

Rogue dismissed Toad with barely a glance and went back to watching Pietro and his jerky, quick gestures. The rhythms of his speech were incredibly fast; she wondered how Toad could keep up with what Pietro was saying. Maybe he wasn't, or maybe he was just used to Pietro by now.

Watching him made Rogue tired. Pietro had none of that quiet stillness about him that his father did.

"Staring at my brother, Rogue? Didn't know you liked punks."

Rogue looked over as Wanda Maximoff sat down in the desk next to her. Wanda was giving her a hesitant sort of smile, as if she wasn't sure if the gesture would be returned or not. Rogue actually sort of liked Wanda, even if her constant angst was occasionally tiresome, so she smiled back easily enough. "Hey. Just starin' out of the window. Your brother's in the way." Her smile turned into a grin. "He _is_ a punk, though."

"Yeah. I know." Wanda reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook and a pen. "He's impossible to live with."

_So is your father._ Rogue didn't say that out loud, though, because she didn't want to do anything that might upset the other girl. Wanda was sort of…unstable…and this little conversation of theirs was actually going rather well.

"What period do you have lunch?" Wanda asked, though it sounded more like a demand than a question, especially if she was going to follow it up with a request to join her. It occurred to Rogue that while Pietro might _look_ a bit more like Magneto, Wanda _acted_ more like him.

"Fourth," Rogue answered, twirling her pen around her gloved fingers. "Everyone else has it after me. I swear they want to stagger our lunch periods so we can't start a revolution or something."

Wanda grinned fiercely. "A revolution? That sounds like fun."

Rogue shook her head. "Yeah? We just stopped one, didn't we? That wasn't so much fun as…" she faltered, trying to find a word to describe what it was like to stop a mutant would-be god from taking over the planet.

"Terrifying?" Wanda supplied, flipping her notebook open as she began to doodle stars on her paper.

"I was going to say, _horrifying_. I think they're probably synonyms."

The two girls exchanged a laugh at that, and Rogue felt something inside of her loosen, relax a little, as they settled down to take notes. Maybe everything would be okay, after all.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Wanda and Rogue sat with Pietro and Kurt at lunch. It was strange to share a table, as if they were all friends instead of former enemies, but there was something easy about it, too. They didn't talk much about being mutants or Apocalypse or any of it. Instead, they talked about _American Idol_ and video games and movies until the bell rang for fifth period.

Wanda walked with her down the hallway as Rogue made her way to her History class. "So, you want to maybe go to the mall or something after school? I, um…this time I could probably not destroy it."

Rogue clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. She turned amused eyes to Wanda, but when she saw the other girl was smiling, Rogue dropped her hand and laughed aloud. "That'd be fun. But I have training after school. Professor X is all psycho about us stepping up the training in case, you know, some other mutant overlord shows up to try and rule the world."

"I thought my father was living with you guys?" Wanda deadpanned, rolling her eyes. "Surely you should be able to keep an eye on him."

She laughed again at that. "Yeah. He's our target in the simulation. Real nice of him considering how many times we had to do that for _real_." Rogue stopped that train of thought, not wanting to remind Wanda of when they were enemies.

Wanda didn't seem to notice. "Well, then, you'll know how to stop him if he ever decides to go back to being a bad guy." She sounded very matter-of-fact about it.

"Uh, Wanda? Can I—can I ask you something?" Rogue paused in the hallway, letting the students flow around her.

Wanda shrugged, but she tensed slightly. "What is it?"

"Does it bother you, about your father? Living with us? Cause if you wanted to, maybe you could—" Rogue never got the chance to finish her sentence, as all of a sudden, a blur flew down the hallway and materialized into Pietro.

Pietro didn't appear to have the same sort of qualms about using his powers at school as some of the rest of them did. Of course, _his_ powers were convenient. Rogue felt a momentary flash of envy at that.

"Sis. Been looking for you. Toad's trying to find you, because I think he wants to walk you home or something and thought he'd annoy you into agreeing even though school isn't even finished yet." Pietro scowled, and he put his hand on Wanda's arm proprietarily. Rogue watched the interaction between them with interest.

Wanda didn't pull away from him, but her expression was unfriendly. "I was going to go to the mall now and blow off fifth period—it's only just study hall. Besides, don't you trust me to deal with Toad myself?" Her voice was laced with an edge of anger, the kind that reminded Rogue of when Wanda had first shown up and the lights would go out and the windows would break in her path.

"Just trying to be helpful," Pietro shrugged, turning his gaze to Rogue. "Hey, Stripes. What's up at the X-Mansion? Do you guys call it that? You should. I would, if I lived there. Do you have an X-Room? And an X-Toothbrush? And—"

"Shut _up_, Pietro, God," Wanda said, rolling her eyes and halting her brother's diatribe. She reached out and tugged her brother's hand. "Rogue's got better things to do than listen to you babble. Come with me to the mall."

Pietro gave his sister a smile, though Rogue thought she saw the slightest hint of bitterness behind the expression. "Whatever you say, sis," he said with a shrug, and the two of them took off down the hall.

"Later," Wanda called over her shoulder, and Rogue noticed she was still holding on to Pietro's arm. "And to answer your question, I don't mind about my father. But we can talk later if you want."

Rogue waved and wondered if they would make it out of the school without anyone seeing them cutting fifth period. For a moment, she wished _she_ could just blow off class and training and go with them to the mall. Rogue flexed her fingers in her gloves as she made her way to History class, wishing for a moment she didn't have to be so restrained all the time, wishing _she_ could ditch class and do something fun.

All the restrictions she was under were necessary, she supposed, but sometimes they chafed. Magneto's words echoed in her mind. _Doesn't it make you angry?_

She shoved his voice to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on class, but every now and then, her wrist would tingle and she would remember when he'd grabbed her in the kitchen, would remember the heat of his body and the feel of his breath against her ear.

_You intrigue me, girl…_


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Here we have a bit of Kitty musing over Lance and his promise to call her. I really hope you all enjoy this part! Thanks so much for the nice reviews :) Also, if you're wondering why the Brotherhood kids are back at school after being expelled in Season Three, all shall be explained in upcoming chapters. Thanks for reading! Sionnain **  
**

**Chapter 3**

Kitty sighed as she sat on her bed, staring at the phone. Of course he wouldn't call. He said he would, which meant he'd forget. He'd play video games with Pietro and then he'd _totally_ forget he'd said he'd call, and then tomorrow they'd have a dumb fight about it and he'd apologize and call for two days, and then—

Kitty forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She _knew_ how he was, and she'd agreed to go out with him again anyway. Maybe she had some sort of disorder that made her want to go out with guys who were just really bad for her.

She looked up as Rogue came in their room, tossing her backpack down on the floor disgustedly, as if it had offended her merely by existing "Why am I sick of school and it just started?"

"Because you're a senior?" Kitty smiled briefly at her roommate. She adored Rogue, even though the two of them couldn't _be_ more different. Kitty didn't think she'd ever use that much eyeliner in her _life_, and their academic interests were at odds with each other, but she still counted Rogue as one of her best friends. Despite all the fights over Rogue being a slob, she wouldn't want to room with anyone else.

Rogue collapsed on her bed, the gesture a bit overdramatic. "I do _not_ want to go to practice. Please tell me I ain't gotta go."

"Sure, don't go. And then the Professor will give you a lecture about responsibility and stuff." Kitty smiled sweetly at her. "I know how much you like those."

"That will be boring," Rogue pronounced with a groan.

"Yup," Kitty agreed, but her smile faded as she looked forlornly over at the phone. Scowling, she went over to her closet to find her uniform. She yanked it out almost violently and tossed it on the bed.

"So you and Lance are dating again?" Rogue was also searching through her—much messier—closet, looking for her uniform.

"I guess," Kitty said with a sigh, finding a ponytail holder on her desk. "I mean, he wants to. I want to, but…" her gaze slid to Rogue, wondering what her friend thought about the situation with her and Lance. She grabbed a brush and began running it through her hair to pull it back into a ponytail.

Rogue probably thought the same thing everyone _else_ thought. That she was crazy for trusting him again, after everything that had happened between them, and that she was just going to end up dumping Lance once he did something stupid.

Which he probably _would_ do. Kitty had _never_ seen anyone manage to self-destruct like Lance when he put his mind to it. Oh, he'd get out of it with his cute smile and that stupid _charm_, just like him not calling now when he was supposed to, and—

"Gonna rip all that hair out of your head?" Rogue drawled, and Kitty blushed and put the brush down, twisting the elastic around her hair and securing it tightly.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" She turned an anxious look to her roommate. "For trusting him again?"

There was an odd look on Rogue's face as she pulled her gloves off. "You're the one that's good with that stuff, Kitty. Not me. I don't forgive or forget very easy, remember?"

"So that's a yes?"

Rogue made a face before answering. "Do you think this time he's serious?"

Kitty looked at the phone; mocking her with its silence. "I hope so, but I just don't know. He was so different after what happened with Apocalypse, but how do I know that since school's started he won't just become the same old Lance?" The same old Lance who blew her off for his stupid reprobate _friends_….

"You don't," Rogue said pragmatically, heading towards their bathroom with her uniform in hand. "Just have to trust him, I guess." She disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Kitty changed into her uniform, neatly folding her clothes and putting them away. "Do you think I should?"

"You're asking _me_? I don't trust nobody," Rogue called from the bathroom. A few moments later, dressed, she opened the door. She threw her clothes carelessly on the floor. Kitty sighed. "That's just me, though. You're gonna do it anyway, ain't you? Might as well be happy about it."

That was the strangest advice anyone had ever given her. "You mean, like, if I'm going to do it anyway, I may as well enjoy myself?"

"Why not? I mean, you like him, or you wouldn't give him fifty million chances to be with you. You wouldn't talk yourself out of being mad at him when he doesn't call."

Kitty played with her hair for a moment, looking at the phone and then at her roommate. She was really annoyed with herself for being so worked up over all of this, _again_, but apparently she didn't think rationally when it came to Lance.

"Rogue, do you think he likes me?" Kitty winced, feeling ridiculous, but she needed _some_ reassurance that she wasn't insane for giving him another chance, that this time it might actually _last_.

"Yeah, I do. But that ain't the only thing that matters, you know. I mean, look at Scott and Jean. They're nutso about each other, and they can't manage to hook up, either. There's got to be something else that makes a relationship work."

Kitty waited for her to finish, a little surprised at Rogue's words. She had no idea her roommate had thought this much about relationships. After her rather disastrous flirtation with that Cajun henchman of Magneto's, she seemed rather uninterested in boys altogether. "Yeah? What is it?"

Rogue smiled wryly. "Don't know. Guess that's why I'm still single. But whatever that is? Seems like that's what y'all need." Rogue finished lacing her boots. "You ready? If we're late, we have to do laps, and I'm still sore from hittin' the ground this morning."

"Yeah," Kitty mumbled, giving one last glance at the phone. "I'm ready."

Immediately after they left, the phone rang. The noise was sharp and loud in the quiet hush of the room.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Kitty tried not to think about Lance while she trained with the others. She did a very poor job of that, though, and ended up losing her balance and went sprawling back into Kurt, phasing at the last minute right as he teleported away.

"That's a bit redundant," Bobby joked, sending an ice spray towards the ceiling. "Only one of you really needed to move."

"Bobby. Don't do that when we're not training," Jean said firmly, her voice authoritative but only just. She was still feeling her way around being a leader, unlike Scott, who had probably been bossy when he was an infant.

"Yeah. Okay." Bobby ambled off to talk to Jubilee. Kitty stood up, rubbing her sore elbows where she'd caught herself when she'd fallen. She looked worriedly at Jean, who was focusing very intently on one of the laser canons mounted to the ceiling, her eyes tear-bright.

"Is something the matter, Jean?" Kitty asked, concerned. She hesitantly placed a hand on Jean's arm. The older girl smiled down at her, though to Kitty, the expression looked forced.

"No, Kitty. I'm fine. Hey, good work today. You're really getting better."

"You need to watch where you're going. Phasing at the last minute can be dangerous," a voice interjected, and Kitty saw Jean tense as Magneto approached.

It was still so _weird_ to treat him like a teacher and not an enemy. "I guess you're right," Kitty said slowly, thinking about what he'd said. Magneto was a tactical genius; even Scott admitted it. "Is there—"

"You know, maybe if she _thought_ too much about it, it wouldn't work. Maybe she should just follow her instincts," Rogue interjected, coming up to stand next to her. Her roommate crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Magneto.

"Maybe _you_ should be quiet and let her finish speaking," Magneto said, and his voice sounded slightly irritated. It was one of the few times Kitty had heard him sound anything other than pleasantly banal.

"Maybe _you_--" Rogue began hotly, stepping forward as if she were going to launch herself at him. Kitty tried not to giggle at the image of her diminutive roommate glaring up at the much-taller Magneto.

"I think we should all shower and change for dinner," Jean said firmly, and fixed Kitty with a bright smile. "I don't know about everyone else, but I'm starving!"

"Placating them or changing the subject is not a good way to lead," Magneto informed her stiffly.

"Oh, you're such an expert. Where's your team at, again?" Rogue shot back, and Kitty was surprised to see Rogue was actually _trembling_. "Oh, right. They let you get eaten by an alien and camped out in your fortress."

Magneto smiled at her, though Kitty didn't think it was a very nice smile. "Why, silly girl, I'm on _your_ team now," he drawled. "So none of that matters anymore." With that, he turned his back on them and left, opening the door with a rather imperious wave of his hand.

"I don't trust him," Rogue said, turning her ire towards Jean. "And I don't see how _you_ can."

"I know what he's thinking," Jean started, but Rogue shook her head and cut her off.

"Not in that helmet, you don't. He could be plannin' on killin' us all, and y'all ain't got the sense to see it." Her accent was thick, heavy with her anger. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

"Let's go, Rogue. They'll be no hot water for the showers if we don't get there first," Kitty said soothingly, grabbing her roommate's arm. Luckily, Rogue didn't protest and they moved out of the Danger Room towards the elevator.

Rogue continued to mutter about Magneto under her breath, and Kitty made soft noises of assent to placate her as she thought about what she would do if there were no voice messages on the phone. Call him and argue? About how he didn't call her? It made her brain hurt to think about it.

When they returned to their room, Kitty walked over and looked down at their white cordless phone. She didn't pick it up to see if they had messages, just stared down at it as if she was expecting it to leap into her hands and answer the question for her.

"Well, just check already. I can't take you moping about it," Rogue said, moving to the bathroom. "Either dump him and save me the time I'll spend outside, pretendin' I don't see Logan smokin' cigars on the deck while y'all fight, or call him and make up. While I'm in the shower so I ain't gotta hear it." She must still be upset—her accent was still more pronounced than Kitty was used to hearing—but she was right.

Kitty snatched up the phone as Rogue disappeared into the bathroom, pressing the button to get the dial tone. At the tell-tale beep that announced a message, she took a deep breath and called the voice mail.

A few moments later, she heard the message.

"Hey Kitty, it's…uh, it's Lance. So, I figured you'd think I'd forget to call, but see, I didn't! So, um, if you want, you could call me back. You know. If not, then I guess I'll see you at school or whatever. Um. Bye." _Click._

Kitty smiled despite herself. He'd remembered. It was the worst phone message in the history of the universe, but he'd actually _remembered_. It was a start.

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(I am blatantly stealing this review-response idea from Miss Information. Go read her fic "Inappropriate Conduct", by the way)

Nercia: Ha, yes, if you think variety is spicy then I hope you like what I'm doing here! It will definitely be different. I'm a rare-pair writer in whatever fandom I end up in, it seems! I suppose Rogue would be their stepmother, if Magneto were the marrying kind. :) Thanks so much for the review; so glad you are enjoying the story!

Miss Information: I replied via the response-device thing, so hopefully you got that. I do have to apologize for any Pietro/Wanda--like I said, just blame it all on VC Andrews and the impression that left on my delicate, impressionable psyche when I was younger! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.

W.C. Reaf: I hope you mean that, about the unusual pairings. I'm afraid this might get a bit twisted and wrong before it's all said and done! And yes, I figure the whole Apocalypse thing was pretty earth-shattering (er, no cheesy superhero pun intended) so they have to cope with the ramifications in a variety of ways--some healthy, some not. One of my favorite things to write about is "normal" behavior when you least expect it, so I'm really glad the talk at lunch worked for you. And I don't know that you can call Magneto and Rogue's involvement a romance, haha, as it's based on a lot of hate, tension, and some other darker things. Thanks so much for reading and leaving a review!


	4. Chapter 4

** AN: **In this chapter, Jean Grey spends a lot of time in her head. My thanks to Nevacaruso for the fabulous beta!

**Chapter 4**

Jean marched up to her bedroom, seething from Magneto's rebuke. She tried not to let anyone see that his censure had upset her, because it probably wasn't in keeping with her new leadership role to start shouting and using her TK to bash the arrogant man over the head with things.

_I don't think I get to do what I want anymore._ There was a depressing thought. Whoever said becoming an adult was fun?

The door to her room flew open by itself, banging against the wall so hard it nearly came back to hit her in the face. Jean looked at it, startled, and then closed it very quietly, feeling guilty. Lately she'd been a bit nervous every time she was in a temper, as if she was going to lose control and suddenly go insane.

The mere thought of that was accompanied by a sharp, hot _terror_, and Jean found herself leaning against the closed door, gasping. Pressure surged inside of her mind, thick and cruel, and all she could see was _darkness_ edged with red--

_No._

Jean pressed her fingers to her temple and took several slow, even breaths. _Calm down. You're not going crazy. The Professor said you may have some changes in your telepathy after what happened with Apocalypse._ The darkness receded, like waves pulling back in the ocean, and she found she was shaking but composed. She moved over to her dresser, her palms flat on the slick wood, and stared at herself in the mirror.

_Get a grip, Jean. Clean up and go downstairs for dinner. You have to call your parents, and they're going to ask about college again, and you're going to need all your wits for that one._ That thought annoyed her sufficiently to make the terror recede even further, clearing her mind. With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror and went to change clothes, composed though still a bit discomforted.

She really _was_ getting sick and tired of having that discussion with her parents during their weekly telephone calls. She'd explained very patiently that yes, she still wanted to go to medical school someday, but that right now she was needed _here_.

They'd seen the news. They'd all seen what had nearly happened with Apocalypse, had seen the resulting hatred and fear that mutants were facing as a result. How could they not understand that to be here—teaching others, just like the Professor had done for _her_--was the most important thing she could do?

Besides, she had become a vital part of the local mutant community; a spokesperson, of sorts, about the dangers of mutant discrimination. She'd been heavily involved in the discussions to allow the Brotherhood kids back at Bayville, despite Principal Kelly's rather vehement objections. While it was true that hell would freeze over before any of them said _thank you_ for their academic reinstatement, she knew she'd done the right thing.

She was hopeful there would be a new principal sometime soon, if Kelly was serious about a political career. If not, the Professor said that they needed to learn to live with humans of all sorts—those that liked them, and those that didn't. Principal Kelly was definitely one of the latter. She didn't want him to stay as the principal at Bayville High; but then again, she really didn't want him making policies in Washington, either.

Still, if Jean could stay active, help convince the local population that mutants weren't like Apocalypse…Kelly could make all the attempts at policies he wanted in Washington with his anti-mutant agenda, and maybe it would all amount to naught.

Maybe.

Jean finished dressing and went to wash her face. She knew she looked tired, and she deliberately ignored looking at the stack of essays she needed to grade before bed. The kids had thought it was stupid that they had to write essays for "Mutant School", but Scott had thought it important that they be able to write about their lives as mutants without fear of reprisal.

"They need to be able to express themselves as mutants somewhere safe," he'd told her.

Sometimes, Jean honestly had to wonder where he came up with this stuff.

There was a knock at the door at precisely five minutes before six, which would be Scott. She waved the door open and called, "Almost ready, Scott. Come on in." She heard the door close and walked out to find him there, wearing his khakis and nice shirt, smiling at her with obvious affection.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, and there was a slight flush on his cheeks as he said it. They had been dating for a few months now, and though they'd been trying to keep it a bit quiet to avoid making a fuss, Scott still seemed like he was in a daze about the whole thing.

The dark press of anxiety that had quieted pulsed back to life, and Jean had to make an effort to smile back at him. _What is wrong with you? You've liked him for forever! Why can't you just be happy now that you're finally dating?_ "Hi. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yeah. Starving. Some workout today!" Scott reached out, rather tentatively, and put an arm around her shoulders. He drew her in to kiss her, gently, his mouth undemanding and light against hers. He tasted minty, like toothpaste.

He drew back before she could even really respond, and opened her door to the hallway. Jean smiled at him, but part of her was left dissatisfied and restless. She almost wished he wouldn't kiss her at _all_ if that was all he was going to give her.

_Don't be so hard on him, Jean. You have to go down to dinner and if you're late everyone will laugh and you know how Scott hates that,_ the rational part of her mind said chidingly.

_Yeah, and I hate being treated like I'm some fragile princess that's going to break if he holds me too tight._ Jean shook her head, wondering why she was so annoyed with Scott's protectiveness when it had always been something she'd found comforting before.

"---and I said, I really don't see how-" Scott broke off, looking down at her. "Is everything okay, Jean? You seem distracted."

_Oh, fine. I'm only arguing with myself in my head._ "I'm fine, Scott. Just a little tired."

He nodded. "It's so weird, being staff, isn't it? I keep thinking we have to go with the kids to school in the morning."

Jean felt an actual smile tug the corners of her mouth at his words. That Scott called everyone else 'kids'—even Rogue, who was only a year younger than him—made her stifle a giggle. Suddenly, she felt a rush of warmth for him and felt a little guilty about her earlier thoughts.

"It is," she agreed, following him into the dining room. They still sat at their usual places at the table, across from each other, next to the Professor at the head of the table. The privilege of being the eldest.

Dinner at the mansion was always well-ordered chaos. Somehow food managed to appear on the table without mishap, and everyone served themselves amid a flurry of talk and laughter. It was so different than it had been after the Professor was taken, when they all ate in the Danger Room trying to figure out how to save him…

Jean shuddered at the memory, a chill sluicing through her veins as she remembered the helpless terror of those few days. She looked up and felt the Professor's eyes on her. _Are you all right, Jean?_

His presence in her head was like a warm cup of chocolate on a cold day—it soothed her immediately. _Yes, Professor. I'm just so glad everyone is here and everything is back to normal._

_Yes. As am I._ His tone of voice became a bit wry. _As normal as it can be, anyway._

She looked over at him at that, and saw his gaze directed towards Rogue, who was giving Magneto a death glare across the table. Their former archenemy appeared not to notice, but Jean felt a vague sense of amusement from him, directed at the young girl, that said quite clearly he _had_ noticed.

As if Magneto could sense Jean's hesitant mental intrusion, he looked across the table to where she sat. Their eyes held for a moment and Magneto winked at her. Jean looked away, a little abashed that he'd caught her, but she was smiling. Magneto could be charming when he wasn't being evil.

_I don't think Rogue would agree._ The Professor's voice again; Jean hid a giggle in her napkin.

_Jean, would you please talk to her for me? This tension between them is distracting Rogue from her training,_ Charles continued, his voice serious. _I think she might listen to you._

Jean doubted that, but she gave her assent and then turned her attention to the others at the table. Scott was talking to Hank about Danger Room scenarios he wanted to implement. Wolverine was attempting to demonstrate to Storm why his claws were perfectly clean enough to use at the table, though Storm didn't look convinced.

Kitty and Kurt were laughing about one of their teachers. Jean was pleased that Kurt didn't appear to be holding any lasting grudges against Rogue for what had happened with Mystique. After all, the shapeshifter was still alive, though no longer a part of their lives.

Jean thought that was for the best, really. They had enough changes to deal with right now; throwing Mystique back into the mix was probably just asking for trouble.

Kitty's laughter, bright and clear, rang out in the dining room. Jean felt the girl's happiness, and the reason for it hovered so clearly on her mind that Jean didn't even have to poke around to find out what it was. She saw a perfect image of the phone in Kitty and Rogue's room, heard Lance's voice on the other end. Jean sighed, wondering if it was a good idea that those two were dating again.

"Hey, Jean, listen to this wacky scenario Hank's come up with for the Danger Room." Scott grinned, pulling her attention back to him. "It's even better than that one I told you about. We can make everyone sore and miserable for a week."

"I thought that was Logan's department?" Jean asked as she forked up another bite of dinner. She felt happy, suddenly; warm and loved and _safe_. It was a nice feeling, and she hung on to it desperately, because she had the terrible feeling that it couldn't possibly last.

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Archmagus: Wow, thank you! I'm so glad that you are enjoying both Progression and my other fanfic offerings :) Thank you so much for leaving me such a nice comment!

WC Reaf: Oh dear, I'm afraid I just may try and reach that threshold! Don't worry, my aim is to make people like pairings even if they really, really think they shouldn't. What do you expect from a girl with M/R as her OTP? (And in movieverse, even, where Magneto tried to kill her!) I am glad you liked the M/R tension--last night I watched an episode of Buffy, in Season Six, where she and Spike get it on in this abandoned house (I'm new to Buffy, so this is my first watch-through) and I thought if I could make my M/R interactions like THAT...hee! And glad you liked the 'normal lives' thing, because that's pretty much my over-arching plot, until we get to a few things that are a bit less normal (not even counting the Pietro/Wanda inappropriate-ness. Hee!) Thanks again for the review and for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Here we have Magneto and Charles Xavier having a little after-dinner conversation regarding their strange living arrangements. Charles wants Magneto to play nice with the other children, especially his own. You can imagine how Magneto loves to be lectured!

Also, I am aware that in Evo!Fic there is a tendency to spell Magneto's given name as "Eric". That, however, is anathema to me, and it's also my husband's name! So my Erik will always, always be Erik-with-a-k.

Thanks for reading and for your nice reviews!

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**Chapter 5 **

Magneto walked into Charles' office, ignoring the nice comfortable chair he was sure that Charles wanted him to take across from his dark mahogany desk. Magneto didn't particularly like being summoned with Charles' message of--_Erik, may I please see you in my office after dinner?_--delivered telepathically, but it was one of the multitudes of things he figured he was just going to have to endure while living in the mansion

There was something galling about living with one's former arch-nemesis. If he and Charles hadn't been friends _before_ they'd been enemies, Magneto wouldn't have even considered it. Sometimes, he saw Charles across the dinner table and resisted the urge to poke himself with his fork to see if he was dreaming. It just seemed so _unreal_.

That would only make him look ridiculous, however, and he'd had enough of _that_ to last him awhile.

Magneto wasn't wearing his helmet, but he wasn't particularly worried about shielding his thoughts from Charles. He never had underestimated the man—Charles must have known that his loyalties hadn't entirely shifted. Especially not with the news reports growing worse each day, talking about violence being committed against mutant-kind the world over.

_A reaction borne of fear, Erik. Can you blame them? _

_Yes. I can._

They'd had this argument before the debacle with Apocalypse, and it had never ended well. So now, they simply did not argue. They played a cat-and-mouse game of revealing their intentions to each other; and while it was probably unhealthy, it resulted in an uneasy détente that was at least somewhat peaceful. Even Magneto, as determined as he was to see _homo superior_ take their rightful place in the evolutionary scheme of things, understood the value of peace at the moment.

Granted, he saw it as more of a time to regroup, but that was neither here nor there.

"What did you wish to speak to me about, Charles?" Magneto crossed his arms and stared at Charles, impassive.

"I am concerned about Rogue," Charles said evenly, hands steepled beneath his chin, his elbows resting on the polished wood of his desk.

"Ah." Magneto gave a low, amused laugh. "Yes. Rogue. She hates me, Charles."

"I know." Charles sighed, shaking his head. "It's impacting her training. We must see to it that she stops hating you quite so…intensely."

"What do you think I could possibly do to make _that_ happen? Turn back time and not have thrown her off a building?" Magneto snapped, irrationally annoyed. Was it _his_ fault the girl could not seem to understand they were no longer enemies? He couldn't change the past, and he'd be damned if he'd apologize for that incident in New York _again_.

"Erik," Charles said wearily, rubbing his eyes, his tone vaguely censuring.

Magneto paced back and forth, restless, feeling like he'd been sent to the headmaster for detention at the tone in Charles' voice. "What? I honestly don't know what you think I should be doing. She doesn't trust me. I can't force her."

"Of course not. No one can force someone to trust them," Charles said slowly, and there was an undercurrent of sadness in his words.

Magneto didn't look away, his gaze sharp. "Technically, that's not quite true, is it? _You_ could, if you wanted." He smiled slowly. "If you want her to trust me so badly, Charles, why not just see to it that she does? Simple enough, if you're you."

"You know very well I will do nothing of the sort," Charles snapped, eyes narrowed. "It is ridiculous for you to even _suggest_ that."

Magneto arched a brow. "Above that, are we?"

"It's an unethical use of my powers," Charles said tightly in response.

"Oh, and I'm to believe the estimable Jean Grey convinced the school board to allow my children back to school without any help from you whatsoever?" As Charles looked away, his expression tinged with a hint of guilt, Magneto laughed. "Ah, old friend, you may lie to your children if you wish, but there is no need to lie to _me_."

"I strongly believe in the value of education and the right of every mutant to have one," Charles said firmly, and Magneto felt a bit smug at having his suspicions about the reversal of the expulsion edict confirmed, however childish that may have been.

"I don't disagree with you there, Charles. I'm only saying that you need not pretend you are quite so noble."

Charles turned his eyes skyward. Magneto had the feeling he was counting, very slowly, to ten. Possibly twenty. Eventually, he looked back at Magneto. "Have you seen them? Wanda or Pietro?"

It was Magneto's turn to look away at that. This was a sore subject with him, and he had no wish to discuss his children with Charles. "I have not in recent days. I know they are busy adjusting to school. I don't want to bother them."

"They're your children, Erik—I hardly think it's a bother to them to spend time with you."

Charles had obviously not spent enough time around Wanda, if he believed that.

"What does this discussion have to with Rogue?" This was upsetting the careful balance between them; the one where Charles didn't ask questions and Magneto didn't offer answers.

Charles wisely dropped the subject. "Perhaps you may do something to _earn_ Rogue's trust?"

"Do you even _know_ the girl, Charles? I probably had more of a chance single-handedly defeating Apocalypse than I have doing that." At that, he winced. The memory of his failure still burned, hot and shameful, when he thought about it. Magneto was a proud man and the result of his attempted assault on Apocalypse had severely battered his pride.

It was likely for that reason that he was still here, holding back his more unsavory opinions on Charles' teaching strategies. Like today, when Jean had attempted to dissolve the tension between Rogue and himself with her obviously false bright smile and chipper reminder of dinner.

_Just tell her that you will brook no arguments to your orders, and that she should show more respect to her elders._ In what world did Charles expect these children of his to live, teaching them leadership strategies like that?

"Erik, that is _enough_," Charles said, his voice low and vaguely threatening.

Magneto looked at him, feeling his blood begin to stir in slow pulses at Charles' obvious intrusion into his thoughts. He didn't blame him, of course, but that didn't mean he _liked_ it. His hands clenched at his side, thinking of his helmet up in his room.

With effort he schooled his features into the same benign, pleasant mask he'd been wearing since he'd arrived and said in an even tone, "Are we done here, Charles?"

"I suppose so. If you would, do try and remember Rogue is a young woman whom you tried your best to kill. If you would put yourself in her place—if you are even capable of that level of empathy anymore, which I _highly_ doubt—then perhaps you would better understand her animosity towards you." Charles smiled coldly.

Magneto felt the blood rushing in his ears, and his pleasant expression twisted into something dark and threatening. "Is that a threat, Xavier? Make nice with your little angry student, or see my way to the door?"

"See it as you like, Erik. My first concern is Rogue. This is her family, her home. She should feel safe here. Perhaps dealing with her will give you some insight when dealing with Wanda."

It often amazed Magneto that no one saw what a thoroughly manipulative _bastard_ Charles Xavier was capable of being. "Is there any other wisdom you feel like imparting to me?"

"One thing," Charles said intently, and his face was set in unfriendly lines. "I am not naïve enough to think this truce of ours will last, Erik. I know you far too well for that. I know that you are angry about Apocalypse, that your faith in your own abilities has been shaken."

Magneto found himself reaching out, seeking metal. The cold brush of it against his mind was a comfort; the only thing keeping him from hurling the desk lamp at Xavier's head was that knowledge that the other man would stop him as soon as he tried it. "Do you have a point?"

"Merely this. The day you decide your indecision is over and you want to leave, I expect you to do so in the most respectful manner possible."

This seemed so far out of left field that Magneto's anger momentarily abated under his confusion. "What in the hell are you implying, Xavier?"

"Remember that I've done you a favor. That your children are back in school, that you are safe from Apocalypse—"

"If I recall correctly, Charles, I wasn't the _only_ one under the control of—"

"And that I gave you a place to stay despite the vehement objections of people I trust, people who risked their lives to save me," Charles continued, his voice raised as he spoke loudly enough to drown out Magneto's objection.

"Have I given you any indication to think you can't trust me not to do something nefarious while under your roof?" Magneto demanded.

"Not as such, no."

"Then why are so convinced I'm going to leave in some fit of righteous fury?"

"Come now, Erik—never say our adventures with our would-be god have turned you to my way of thinking, convinced you I was right?"

Magneto turned away at that, unable to answer.

"Your silence is the only answer I need," Charles said, and Magneto turned back to him, suddenly amused.

"And you call _me_ melodramatic," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"I didn't try to make a home on an asteroid," Charles reminded him dryly.

"Touché," Magneto murmured, bowing slightly. He could feel the tension between them begin to abate, just a little. "Very well, Charles. If I wish to leave, I shall inform you of it in a nice, respectable manner."

"And leave my jet alone."

"And leave your jet alone," Magneto echoed. "And I shall do my best to deal with young Rogue, though I do rather think it is useless at this point. Is there any other condition to which I must agree before I may leave your office?"

Charles threw his hands up, looking exasperated, but his face had eased into less-tense lines. "Have dinner with your children, Erik. Don't let this fragile bond slip away."

"Would you please stop with the platitudes? Honestly, Charles." Magneto turned to go, but he gave his old friend a genuine smile before he did. Charles returned it, and Magneto remembered briefly the young man he'd been and the friendship they had shared.

"You know this is perfectly insane, don't you, us living under the same roof. All the assurances in the world won't change that, or the likelihood that something bad will happen as a result."

Charles nodded, appearing resigned. "Yes, I know that, Erik. Just as you know that I have to at least _try_ when it comes to you."

"I know. Good night, Charles." His voice suddenly gruff, he pulled the door open. There were a thousand other things he could say, but it wouldn't matter. There was a vast gulf between them that no amount of banter could ever quite breach.

"Good night, Erik," Charles said softly, and Magneto pulled the door shut behind him.

When he returned to his room, he picked up the phone. He dialed Pietro's number and waited for this son to answer.

"Pietro. This is your father." Magneto lifted his hand, and his helmet slid through the air to rest beside him on the bed. He didn't want to wear it, he just wanted to feel the metal of it, slick and cool beneath his palm. "I would like to have dinner with you and your sister."

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Swamp Rat Cherie: Thank you, I'm glad you like the Magneto/Rogue pairing! Expect to see more soon! Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Archmagus: Aww, thanks. I'm glad you liked that little moment with Wolverine and Storm. I'm a fan of that pairing in just about any verse but the movies! I like Evo!Wolverine, even if he's a bit "neutered" (and why oh why does Evo!Wolverine wear a helmet? Hello, healing factor!) and so I hope to bring more of him in the story even though he's not a main character in this one. Thanks for reading and the nice comment :)

BrennaM: Oh, gosh, that Buffy episode was so wonderful! I hope I convey that same sort of hate and lust with Magneto and Rogue when we get there! Thanks so much for reading and glad you aren't running in terror from the unusual pairings...

Miss Information: (Can I first SQUEEE over the end of Inappropriate Conduct? SQUEE!) Yes, Wanda and Pietro will have a few nice moments before it all goes to hell, but then I promise they'll be nice and tortured. And I'm a fan of really wrong and inappropriate relationships (surprise) and so I love Charles/Jean, esp. when Xavier's a little more morally ambiguous and Jean's a little bit darker. Lance and Kitty...ah, now they just might have the most normal relationship of all, but that doesn't mean it will be all sunshine and light! (I love angst like I love diet coke with lime and vodka tonics, babe.) Gambit/Rogue--I'm a fan of them in some comic-verses, but the pairing leaves me sort of cold in Evo. Gambit in my head is sleeping with Pyro, hahaha. :) I do hope that I'm able to make Jean a more complex character as she becomes darker, as that is one of the main goals of this story. Magneto's motivations...hopefully this chapter answered some of those questions. I don't know that even Magneto knows what they are, to be honest. Everyone is really shaken up! And I don't know that it's so much that Scott trusts Magneto as he does the Professor's judgement...ah, poor naive Cyclops. Glad you liked his character--I'm a fan of Scott. Woah, longest review answer ever! Thanks so much for reading and glad you are enjoying!

NMCL: (What a curious and arcane name you have there! What does it stand for? Not Merely Counting Lions? Never Make Children Leapfrog? Nice Moms Chide Lepers? I must know.) Thank you for the review, and do hope you continue to enjoy the story!


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **In this chapter, Wanda Maximoff deals with the fun of living with too many boys and no one to make them clean up the house. She also has a bit of a flare of nerves when talking about Dear Old Dad with Pietro.

I had to come up with some believable scenario for what happened to Pietro while he was living in the city (since we first meet him at school with Evan Daniels), and I arrived at the idea that he was living in one of Magneto's properties, and his father likely visited him only occasionally amidst running the Brotherhood, recruiting his Acolytes, and building his asteroid :) So Wanda, with her modified memories, thinks she lived in the city with Pietro and rarely saw her father, thus her comment that she "hardly knows him". This was hard to deal with in fic as the plot is riddled with holes, in my opinion, on the show itself. So I've done the best I can, and hopefully, it will make sense to y'all, too.

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**Chapter 6**

"Don't you think that we should clean this place up?"

Wanda looked around the living room of the house, her features marred by distaste. Lance was sprawled on the couch, the bright lights of the video game reflected in his dark eyes. Her brother was on the floor, jerking at the controller around maniacally as if that would have some sort of impact on the character onscreen. Wanda didn't think Pietro could sit still if his life depended on it, though, so it probably wasn't any sort of strategy on his part.

"Why would we do that?" Lance asked, looking up at her. Pietro started crowing about his victory, and Lance hit him over the head with the controller.

"Because this place is a disaster?" Wanda said, exasperated, as she looked around the room. The furniture was dusty and littered with fast food wrappers of meals gone by, and there was actually a _stack_ of pizza boxes in the corner that was growing at an alarming rate.

"Yeah, but who cares?"

Gritting her teeth, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the two of them. "I don't know, me? And Lance, don't you think you'd like to have Kitty over sometime and not want her to think you live in a pigsty?"

Lance flushed a little at that; Wanda could tell he didn't like her mentioning Kitty in front of Pietro. She didn't really care. If Lance was going to date the girl, keeping it a secret was just stupid.

"You're dating the goody-two-shoes girl again?" Pietro laughed. "I give you a week before she dumps you."

"Shut up," Lance growled, smacking Pietro upside the head again with his PlayStation controller. "It's none of your business."

"What's none of his business?" Todd hopped into the room, coming to rest right at her feet. He smiled up at her, and Wanda tried very hard to smile back at him in a way that suggested if he started in on the "You're my one true love" business, she'd cheerfully throttle him.

"Lance is dating Kitty again," Pietro said, laughing, though there was a slight edge of malice to it.

The sound made Wanda's hair stand up on the back of her neck. Something about when Pietro laughed like that….She felt her powers flare, just a little, and one of the lights in the ceiling fan above them shattered.

Pietro moved out of the way, his lightening-quick reflexes keeping him safe from the falling shards of glass. He looked up at Wanda, his eyes cautious. "Something the matter, sis?"

"Just wish we could clean this damn house up," she muttered, heading towards the door. Her hands were shaking. _What is wrong with me?_ For the millionth time, she felt something wasn't quite _right_, as if there was something horrible looming over the house and everyone knew what it was but _her_. Her eyes slid back to Pietro, who was looking at her warily.

Why did he do that, look at her as if he were just waiting for her to…

_Snap_.

"Yeah, okay. We will. Won't we," he said firmly, glaring at Lance. Lance shrugged, unconcerned, apparently not in the mood to play dominance war with Pietro. Or maybe he really _did_ want to bring Kitty over. There was no telling sometimes with him.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"I can clean," Todd told her, bringing her attention back to him. He was still sitting at her feet in that peculiar pose of his, looking up at her adoringly. "I can do anything you want me to."

Wanda rolled her eyes, but she found she was resisting the urge to pat him on the head. She'd never tell Todd this, but she was sort of fond of him in the way she would be of a pet that was cute but continually made a mess on the carpet. Strangely endearing, but far too much effort.

"Where's Fred?" Wanda winced. "Tell me he's not out getting the pizza." Whenever they sent him out for dinner, he usually ate all of it before he got home.

"Don't know where he is, but we got the pizza for delivery so no one would starve," Lance responded, standing up. He stretched languidly and dropped the controller on the sofa. He looked down at the broken glass on the floor and sighed. "We should probably clean that."

"I'll get it," Wanda responded, heading towards the kitchen. Maybe if she showed some sort of responsibility, it would rub off on the others. Doubtful, but the mess _was_ her fault.

It took her a few minutes of searching through the kitchen to realize they probably didn't have a dustpan. Or a broom. She improvised using a sponge with a handle that was supposed to be for the dishes (a laughable concept) and a plastic grocery store bag.

Predictably, they'd all left the living room by the time she'd returned. Someone had picked up the pizza boxes and the fast-food wrappers, but they'd just left it in a pile in front of the door. As if the trash would magically take itself out to the curb.

Wanda had to laugh. There was really nothing else she could do, really.

When she finished cleaning up the glass, she straightened and looked out of the window. It was very dark outside and starting to rain. There was something about the water-slicked glass that made her heart start to pound. The ghost of a memory tickled the back of her mind; it pricked like the tiny bit of glass that had embedded itself in her skin.

Blinking, she turned away from the window and carried the bag of glass to the pile of trash, dropping it on top. She went to find something to sack up the trash with, but they didn't have any trash bags.

The doors to the cabinets opened and shut rapidly in her irritation, and two cereal boxes fell from the top of the refrigerator to the linoleum floor. She groaned at that, expecting an explosion of Corn Flakes, but of course the boxes were empty.

The faucet turned itself on and the disposal started whirring. Wanda turned them both off, deciding it might be wise to just stop trying to clean. It was only upsetting her, and her powers usually reacted rather vehemently when she was upset. She didn't fancy cleaning up any more glass.

On her way up the stairs to her bedroom—the only clean place in the entire house—she passed by Pietro's door, half-open. "Hey, sis," he called, and she paused in mid-step.

"Yeah?"

"Come here for a sec."

She pushed his door open, trying to ignore the state of his room and failing. "Pietro, God, you do _have_ a closet," she snapped, stepping over a pile of laundry on the floor. Whether it was clean or dirty was anyone's guess.

"I know. But it has too much stuff in it." He shrugged and sat down on his unmade bed.

Wanda took in his uncharacteristic tense posture and bit her lip. "What'd you want? I have homework to do."

"Dad called. He…he wants us to have dinner with him."

The light flickered. Pietro winced. "Calm down, Wanda, I don't think we have anymore light bulbs."

Wanda leaned against Pietro's dresser, watching him carefully, trying to push down that strange agitation that rose within her whenever she thought about her father.

It was weird. She barely knew the man. Why did she have this lingering anger at him that she couldn't quite place? At first she'd thought it was because he'd moved in to Xavier's, but when she thought more about it, it _couldn't_ be that. She'd been relieved, really, that he wouldn't be living with them.

Maybe it was the fact he'd gone and gotten himself captured and nearly killed without thinking about her and Pietro. The windows rattled alarmingly in their frames. Pietro stared at her for a moment, looking nervous, and Wanda forced herself to calm down. "Sorry. Are we going?"

"Don't know. You want to?" Pietro was staring down at his hands. "We should, I guess."

"We did promise him we'd try," Wanda agreed, twisting her hands together. "Where are we supposed to meet him? Not at Xavier's," she said, the idea horrifying. She didn't hate the X-Men—in fact, she would like to see Rogue somewhere other than class—but she didn't really want to have to have dinner with all of them, either.

Plus, Xavier's kids were probably really smug about the school board decision allowing them to go back to school, which she totally knew had to be Xavier or Jean Grey's mind powers at work. No way would the good citizens of Bayville have let them back otherwise.

Secretly, all of the Brotherhood _were_ glad to be back at school, but they'd never admit to it to any of Xavier's little groupies. They might not be enemies with the X-Men anymore, but they were still _rivals_. Saving the world together wouldn't ever change _that_. Friendly rivals, maybe, but rivals all the same.

"He suggested this place downtown. Caruso's. Never heard of it."

"Because they don't serve food in wrappers or deliver it in a box," Wanda said wryly. "I know where it is."

"So I should tell him we'll be there? He wants us to go tomorrow, at six-thirty." Pietro was still not looking at her. That same sense of _wrongness_ invaded her mind again, and she took a deep breath before she broke anything else.

"Guess so." She examined the chipped black nail polish on her fingers. She supposed she should maybe fix it so she didn't look like some sort of hooligan.

"Okay." Pietro stood up. "So…I'll call him back, then." He appeared to be waiting until she left the room to do so. It bothered Wanda, but she didn't know why.

"Fine. Is that all you wanted?" She turned towards the door, but he was there in front of her before she could blink. She scowled at him and a few of his CDs fell off his CD tower. "You know I hate when you do that."

"Yeah, well, what are big brothers for?"

"You're only older than me by like two minutes," Wanda reminded him, glaring, but it was without any real heat.

"Still." Pietro grinned at her. "You gonna wear that get-up to dinner? Probably'll drive Dad crazy."

She looked down at her clothes; it was her normal ensemble. She really didn't have anything that their rather conservative father would find appropriate. "Maybe I'll leave the earrings at home," she said sweetly, pulling lightly at one of the crosses.

"Considering Dad's Jewish, that's probably a good idea," Pietro drawled sarcastically.

"Pietro, would you please get out of my way?" She reached out her hand and shoved at his shoulder ineffectually.

His mocking expression vanished, and his face softened a bit. "Hey, sis. I'm…I'm glad you're still here," he said gruffly. "I mean, I'm glad you didn't high-tail it over to Xavier's with Dad when we got back."

Some of her strange agitation abated; she was flooded with sudden warmth for him at his words. "Pietro, I barely know the man. You're my brother. My place is with you."  
She still had her hand on his shoulder and she squeezed lightly. It was an affectionate gesture, slightly out of the normal for her, as were her words to him. "Even if Xavier's is probably a lot cleaner."

"There's a lot of glass, though," he reminded her, though she could tell he was pleased. "You would make a mess of the place before you'd even moved all your stuff in." They smiled at each other, and Pietro stepped out of the way.

Wanda left his room, but paused on her way down the hall. She listened for a moment as Pietro called their father, heard him speaking in a low voice.

_Yes, we'll be there. Yeah, six-thirty is fine. No, but Wanda does._

She shook her head, confused by her inability to move down the hallway. They were having a perfectly normal conversation. Why was her heart racing so fast? Why couldn't she just go to her room and start her homework before dinner?

Pietro's next words made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

_No. Still nothing. She's fine._

Wanda heard the doorbell ring, likely announcing the arrival of dinner—pizza, of course—and went to her room. Suddenly, she wasn't very hungry.

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BrennaM: Thank you! And yes, I love to explore the intimate dynamics between characters, no matter what ends up happening. I'm glad you are enjoying the story and thanks for reading!

mc2rpg: Ha, that's exactly what my husband said. He's convinced Wanda and Rogue should fight over Pietro (likely involving clothing being torn off) and then decide to just forget Pietro all together. Hee! I'm actually a fan of that pairing, but of course Rogue/Magneto is my OTP. I do plan on having Wanda and Rogue be very close friends, if that's any consolation!

Archmagus: Thanks! I am a fan of creepy!Xavier, but more fond of manipulative!Xavier. Though I do think that he's basically a good person, he's still a little devious when he wants to be. Glad you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

** AN: **In this chapter, Lance talks to his girlfriend, eats a late-night snack, and has a conversation with Pietro that doesn't end in an argument. All in all, a pretty good night's work!

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**Chapter 7**

Lance answered the phone when it rang after dinner, trying to sound very bored and not at all like he was expecting (hoping?) it to be Kitty. It was nearly nine-thirty and he reminded himself that it could be someone else calling, that Kitty might go to bed early or something.

"Hi, Lance? It's Kitty." Her voice, cheerful and bright, made him smile when he heard it. He was glad no one was there to see it, though, because he probably looked really stupid with that grin on his face. He checked to make sure his door was closed for the fifth time before sitting on the bed. He wished he could go out on the roof, but it was raining really hard.

"Hey," he said, striving to keep his voice even. He didn't want to say anything wrong. He would _not_ mess this up, not _again_.

"So, how are you?" Her sweet voice sounded genuinely concerned.

Lance searched desperately for something to say. _Fine. This house is a mess and Wanda is still breaking things, and everyone walks around eggshells with her so she doesn't remember why she hates Magneto, and Pietro has threatened us all with death if we so much as mention it…_ "You know. The usual."

She laughed. "So you probably played video games, just ate dinner like, twenty minutes ago even though it's after nine, and haven't done your homework yet."

Somewhat shocked by the accuracy of that, Lance blinked. "Uh…yeah, pretty much. How'd you know?"

"Cause you said, 'the usual'," she reminded him, giggling again.

"So what about you? Bet you had a nice little training session dodging lasers, had dinner with everyone, then did all your homework and are now in your pajamas." He imagined her on her bed, lying there in some cute little pajama set, and swallowed as the image made him feel a bit too warm. He imagined her laying there in _his_ bed, wearing nothing at all, and had to make himself think about other things before he said something inappropriate.

"Yup. That's it. Am I that predictable?" she teased, her voice light.

"Am I?" he countered, smiling. He twisted the phone cord around his fingers slowly.

She laughed. "So, are you glad to be a senior? Rogue seems to be sick of school already and it just started."

"I guess. Seems like it will be a long time until May, though." They eased into a conversation without too much trouble, neither of them mentioning anything about mutants or the protests or even Lance's re-enrollment at Bayville. They talked about television and music, and he teased her mercilessly about her strange CD collection consisting of Celine Dion and Shania Twain.

After about an hour, Kitty was beginning to yawn over the phone. "I have to get up early and go to practice before school," she said apologetically. "So I should go to bed."

"Yeah. I should, um, do this reading for class." Lance glanced at his backpack, closed, sitting in the corner of his room. He would likely _not_ do his homework, but it was probably a good idea if she at least _thought_ he was going to.

"You should. So, I'll…um…" her voice became suddenly shy. He thought it was cute. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly, his voice quiet. "Sleep well."

"I will," she said softly. "Night, Lance."

He hung up the phone, glad she'd called him back. Kitty made him feel happy, and he didn't care if everyone in the Brotherhood laughed at him for dating her. She was smart, and funny, and really hot, so they were all probably just jealous anyway. Lance took himself off downstairs, wondering if there was any leftover pizza.

He found Pietro seated at the kitchen table, doing his homework and not looking very pleased about it. Lance wasn't so sure he believed the long-suffering expression on his face was due to his not understanding the assignment. Pietro might be a punk, but he _was_ pretty smart.

He looked up as Lance entered the kitchen, his light eyes wary. "Hey. If you want some pizza, get some before Fred comes back downstairs for his third midnight snack."

Lance looked at the clock over the stove. "It's ten-thirty."

"Yeah, well, _you_ tell him that." Pietro went back to his homework. Something about him didn't seem exactly _normal_; his jaw was set and he looked more high-strung than usual, his normal arrogance understated.

Lance found a few pieces of pepperoni pizza and carried them over to the table. He ate them cold with a glass of milk. Pietro made a face at his meal but didn't say anything.

"Something the matter with you?" Lance asked, peering at him cautiously. It wasn't like Pietro to let _anything_ go, ever.

"No. Why do you think that? Do I look like something's the matter? I'm just doing my homework. Can't I do my homework without getting the third degree? I do sort of want to graduate so I can get of this stupid town and—" Pietro's voice slid into that rapid-fire speech pattern that made Lance want to wring his neck.

He held his hands up, eyes wide. "Dude, calm down. You just looked funny, s'all." He took another bite of his cold pizza, washing it down with milk. "You know. Funnier than usual," he added, unable to resist.

Pietro looked up and scowled. "Ha, ha. Funny guy, Lance. You should be a comedian. Since you're so funny." Pietro tossed his pencil down on the table and glared at the paper in front of him. He was breathing very quickly.

"Dude," Lance said again, honestly concerned. "Something happen with your sister?" Usually the only thing that got Pietro so worked up was Wanda.

It was the wrong thing to say. Pietro sprang lithely to his feet, his eyes bright with anger. "Shut up about her, Lance. Just don't talk about Wanda. Everything's fine, we're fine, _she's_ fine…" his eyes moved like darts around the room, focusing on everything and nothing all at once.

"Uh, yeah. I didn't mean—would you calm _down_?" Lance slowly stood up, wondering if he'd have to smack Pietro like they always did in movies with hysterical people. He'd not really mind that, to be honest.

Pietro started, raking both hands through his hair so hard it seemed to Lance he was going to pull all his fair hair out of his head. He took a deep breath, his eyes finally resting on Lance. "Yeah, sorry. I just…how long do I have to cover up for his fucking mistakes?"

Lance blinked at the dark tone of anger in Pietro's voice, different from his usual cocky self-confidence. So they _were_ talking about Wanda. "Nobody said you had to, you know," he reminded him carefully.

Pietro laughed bitterly. "Oh, right. I'm supposed to tell Wanda---" he shook his head. "No. I'm not doing it. She'll be psycho again," he muttered. "I don't want that."

"Dude, _none_ of us want that again. We're not going to say anything." Lance backed up a little at the brief expression of fury on Pietro's face. When he was angry, his resemblance to Magneto was striking. It made Lance nervous. "Don't really think you have to worry about _that_."

"Oh, you don't, do you?" Pietro's laughter was less bitter, but more manic. "Good for you. Don't worry about it, then. What do you care? It's our last year in this house, isn't it? Mystique's gone, my dad's world-domination ambitions seem to be on hold, and unless Apocalypse shows up for a re-match…" he waved his hand in the air. "What the hell does any of it matter anymore?"

"Because everyone still hates us?"

"They let us back in school," Pietro reminded him.

"Not _us_, you moron. I mean _mutants_. You seen the news lately? People are protesting, trying to get us to have to register—"

Pietro made a sound of disgust and cut him off. "I don't have time to watch the news, Lance. I could give a shit about the rest of the world right now."

It finally occurred to Lance that Pietro really _must_ be under a lot of pressure, trying to keep Wanda from remembering that their father had locked her up as a kid. Lance wasn't really sure of the details—all he knew was that Wanda was suddenly less angry at Magneto and that Pietro had threatened to kill them all, painfully, if anyone reminded her that she'd hated him.

Lance hadn't been joking, though. No one wanted Wanda back the way she used to be. Things were at least _close_ to normal now—as normal as they ever were, anyway. "We aren't going to say anything. She'll never know. Besides, don't you think this is the best thing for her? It can't be healthy, her being so mad all the time." His voice was rough; Lance wasn't good at giving comfort, but it was true. He'd seen the pre-whatever-happened version of Wanda. All that stress wasn't good for a person.

His powers being what they were, Lance understood stress and pressure, and when it was enough to break. Knowing what Wanda could do….yeah.

Pietro seemed to calm a little at his words, which surprised Lance. The two of them spent so much time arguing that he'd not realized he was even capable of making Pietro relax. "That's what my father says, that it's better for her that she not remember." He didn't sound convinced.

"Trust me, yo. It's better for _everyone_ that she not remember. She was pissed at you all the time, too, remember? Your dad's probably right." It felt weird referring to Magneto as anyone's _dad_.

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then Pietro nodded and sat back down at the table. Lance washed his hands, greasy from the cold pizza, and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Hey, Lance?"

"Yeah?"

There was a pause, the sort that seemed to stretch on for a long time but was, in fact, merely seconds. "Thanks."

Lance shrugged. "Don't mention it. And don't be late tomorrow morning. I want to at least be on time for class. I don't want to spend half the year in detention."

"Wouldn't want to not see the little lady, huh?"

"Shut up, Maximoff."

"Bite me, Alvers."

Lance shook his head and headed off to bed, grinning.

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NMCL: Ah, I see! Well, that likely makes more sense than my interpretation. Things usually do, though! Anyway, thank you for the reviews! Glad you liked the Pietro and Wanda dynamic. I admit to being a bit obsessed writing them lately!

Nercia Genesis: Thanks! I know, I write fast! I actually usually write two chapters at a time and send them to my beta, then post one at a time. But my beta is incredibly efficient and has caught up with me, so updates after Ch. 8 might be a slower in coming. And don't worry, Rogue and Magneto will be back in all their psychotic glory. Hee! Thank you so much for reading!

BrennaM: Thanks! I love Friends!Wanda and Rogue, I really do. They hopefully will keep each other from being so emo! And yes, will be fun to see what Wanda thinks of her father and Rogue down the road. I imagine she'll be quite shocked! Then again...maybe not..lalala. Thanks so much for the review!

Archmagus: That's okay, it can be a word if you want it to be :) As to your comment, Wanda isn't really having residual memories, she just knows something is wrong--not from what she remembers, but from how everyone else around her is acting. I don't think Mastermind did a shoddy job, but what will make the whole thing fall apart doesn't have to be her remembering--it just has to be someone who is convincing enough that Wanda couldn't possibly think they are lying to her...that's a tale for another day, though. Thanks for the review, as always!


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **I would like to promise you all that Pietro Maximoff will remain his cocky, slightly punk-ass self in my story--I don't redeem villains because that makes them very boring (I'm always disappointed in the comics when Pietro and Wanda high-tail it off to join the Avengers. Why not be mutant terrorists instead, guys? You're much more fun to play with. Though I suppose _House of M_ reminds us they aren't entirely redeemed, after all. Not to mention their incestuous love for each other. Ha. Right, I digress.)

What I do enjoy doing with my villains, rather than redeeming them, is presenting them as complex characters. I'm hopeful that these last few chapters have shown there is more to Pietro than his inflated sense of confidence (dare one say megalomania?) and occasional bad attitude (which we'll see more of), but I promise he's not going to be Angsty!Pietro forever. There's just a few things that make the poor boy nervous. His sister is one, his father his another, and being in the same restaurant is definitely nerve-wracking. On that note, I bring you: Uncomfortable Family Dinner!Enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading.

Your humble author :)

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**Chapter 8**

Pietro stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the restaurant's brick façade as he and Wanda waited for their father to show up at Caruso's. Wanda was staring out at the road at the cars that passed by, appearing completely collected and unfazed by their upcoming dinner.

Every now and then, however, there would be a near-accident on the street that clearly said otherwise.

He went to stand next to her beneath the cheerful bright white-and-green striped awning, the last near-miss a little too close for comfort. "Hey, sis, he'll be here, okay?"

"I'm not worried," she bit out, glaring at him, but he knew she was lying. She sighed loudly. "Okay, fine. I wouldn't be nervous if you'd have let us show up at six-thirty instead of six-ten. Why'd we have to be so early?"

"Don't blame me. Lance needed the jeep to pick up Kitty." Pietro shrugged "Besides, I usually _am_ early. I get places fast." He grinned at her, trying to make her relax.

She didn't smile back, but the cars on the street drove by without incident and her expression looked less troubled. "Why does he make me so nervous, Pietro? We were happy when I was little. When you and I lived together in the city he would visit us, and I don't remember being so _nervous_ then…."

Guilt hit him, sharp and hot, right in the stomach, because of course Wanda had never lived with him in the city. "We didn't see him much, remember, and then bang! He shows up, then runs off and nearly gets himself killed." Pietro said haltingly, because while it was true that he rarely saw his father when he'd lived in the city, he wasn't sure if that's how _Wanda_ remembered it.

He wished his father had thought more about this whole mind-erasing thing before devoting the three minutes he'd apparently allotted for the procedure. It wasn't so much the childhood memories that bothered Pietro—despite missing his sister and suffering through his father's occasional moodiness, he'd actually _had_ a relatively happy childhood—it was Wanda's memories _after_ that that were problematic.

_Sometimes I hate you for doing this to me. For making me lie to her. For leaving her with me without thinking how hard it would be for me to keep this stupid story straight._

Wanda nodded, the brief flash of uncertainty on her face evaporating. "I guess you're right, Pietro. I just…it feels like I barely know him."

Pietro searched for something to say that wasn't _because you don't._. He was saved by the arrival of their father, walking towards them with his chin at its customary arrogant tilt and dressed in black slacks and a grey sweater. He looked completely put together, in control.

"Pietro. Wanda. I'm happy you could make it," he said in his rich voice, his face carefully guarded but not particularly unfriendly.

"Luckily, Wanda _remembered_ where this place was," Pietro said, giving his father a pointed look.

His father just smiled at that, ignoring Pietro's barbed remark. "A good thing indeed. Shall we?" He opened the door and nodded that they should precede him into the restaurant.

They were shown by the hostess to a table in the back, near a window. Pietro wondered if anyone recognized them from the news. The waitress did not appear to; she merely handed them their menus and brought them glasses of water before leaving them alone to decide on dinner.

"So how are the two of you? Getting along well, I hope?" Magneto took a drink of his water. Pietro felt the bizarre urge to laugh. This was all so _normal_, as if they were an average family having dinner together on a pleasant fall afternoon.

"Fine, yeah. School and stuff." Pietro exchanged a glance with Wanda. "The usual."

"How—how are you?" Wanda asked hesitantly, and Pietro could hear the undercurrent of anxiety in her voice as she tried to reach out to Magneto. He felt a sudden, sharp protective urge to leap across the table and strangle their father.

Though this was better than that nightmare with the Sentinels, he had to admit, which was probably why he felt so conflicted about the whole thing. Pietro slouched in his seat in typical adolescent fashion and watched their interaction with his stomach tied up in knots. This whole thing was going to fall apart, someday, he just _knew_ it.

Magneto appeared completely nonplussed by the tension. "I am fine, for the most part. I have been busy trying to figure out my finances. I thought perhaps—" he faltered, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself for a moment. "I thought that perhaps if I could afford it, I would find a house with enough room for the three of us to live."

"I'm really happy where we're living," Pietro said quickly. He might occasionally want to smack Lance or force Todd to bathe, and Fred was nearly eating them out of house and home, but the thought of having to be some sort of mediator between his father and his sister, with all the lies that made up their dementedly complicated family dynamic?

Oh, _hell_ no.

"I'm sure that you are. I do not wish to upset your normal routine. I merely meant that there would be room for you both, if you wished to…stay there, occasionally." He looked away, staring out of the window, his fingers drumming on the table.

"Is everything okay at Xavier's?" Wanda demanded, a slight edge to her voice. "I mean, they're not being awful or anything to you, are they?"

Pietro saw the brief flash of pleasure on his father's face at her concern. "They're fairly polite for the most part, if not a bit rowdy. I'm not used to living with children." As if he realized his mistake, Magneto smiled smoothly. "At least, not for a long time now."

Pietro expelled a breath and Magneto cut his eyes down at him. They had the same eyes, he and his father, but Pietro didn't know if he'd ever be able to make his gaze that _cold_.

"So you don't think you'll be staying there that long?" Pietro asked quickly, focusing very intently on the tablecloth. He shifted in his seat, nervous energy racing up and down his spine, his skin tingling. He felt the urge to _run_, to vanish, to be anywhere else but _here_. His fingers actually curled around the curved wood of the chair as if he were trying to keep from bolting.

"I'm not sure. There're still a few things I need to work out." Magneto was looking at him with a faintly disproving expression, as if he could sense Pietro's mood beginning to become manic.

Maybe he could. After all, Magneto actually _had_ raised him, and surely he was well-aware of Pietro's rather frantic, high-strung nature when he was agitated. "No, ah, plans for world domination?"

Wanda, who had been taking a sip of her water, choked. "Pietro," she hissed, looking furiously at him. "What the hell kind of question is _that_?"

"Language, Wanda," Magneto said sternly, then turned a rather imperious look on his son. "I have no such plans at the time, Pietro, but if I change my mind I guarantee you'll be the _first_ to know."

Wanda laughed at that, and Pietro felt himself flushing in embarrassment, but some of the tension eased at the table. Their conversation turned to more mundane things—school, homework, and as they ate dinner it eventually drifted towards the news and the recent outbreak of "Mutant Hate Crimes".

"There was a _Dateline_ special on it," Wanda remarked, toying with the remains of her chicken Caesar salad. "It was really awful. People suck." Pietro noticed her nails were clean, free of the black polish she was so fond of. True to her word, she'd not worn her dangling cross earrings. She still looked a bit weird with her hair being two different colors, but other than that, she looked less like a _Hot Topic_ advertisement than she usually did.

"When do you watch _Dateline_?" Pietro asked her, reaching over to steal a piece of chicken from her plate with his fork. The fork moved out of his hand and rested at the side of his plate before he could do so, however. He looked up and caught his father's disapproving look.

Ah, right. Metal cutlery. Master of Magnetism father with a complex for manners.

"You know, when you and Lance aren't hogging the television with your stupid video games, some of us actually _watch_ things on it."

"I do hope you're spending time on your homework," Magneto said, his voice firm. "It's important that we mutants be as educated—if not _better_ educated—than our human—" he paused, his smile sharp. "Our human _brethren_."

Pietro had absolutely no doubt in his mind that _wasn't_ the word his father had planned on using.

His leg began bouncing and he anxiously ran his palms up and down the side of the chair, the frantic energy rising once more inside of him. Here he was, sitting in a restaurant with his father—the mutant terrorist Magneto (Pietro would put the 'former' on that phrase when and if he actually _believed_ it belonged there)—with his crazy brainwashed sister, being lectured about doing his homework.

Pietro started laughing; the sound was reminiscent of a hyena braying, loud and wild.

"Stop it," Wanda hissed, leaning forward. People at nearby tables were beginning to look over at them, their expressions curious. "Pietro! _Stop it._."

"Son, what on earth is the matter with you?" Magneto demanded, his eyes narrowed speculatively, his voice very cold. Pietro just shook his head and laughed harder as the energy rushed through him.

The waitress, who was bringing them their check, slipped and fell on the floor for no apparent reason. There was a loud bang and a shout from the direction of the kitchen. Pietro stopped laughing and looked at his sister; she was gripping the table and her face was white, her eyes very wide as she stared at him.

The sight of her obvious panic quieted his own rising hysteria. "Wanda, it's okay," he said, reaching across the table. He took her hand in his, squeezing it. "I—sorry. You know how I get. Just…relax, okay?"

"All is fine," Magneto said in a very soothing voice. "Wanda, you cannot let your powers control you. You must learn to control _them_."

Pietro glared up at his father. "This really isn't the time for a lecture, _Dad_." His eyes flickered back and forth from Magneto's intent expression to Wanda, who had a death-grip on his hand, her nails digging into his flesh unpleasantly.

"I'm not giving her a lecture. It's merely fact. Wanda, look at me," Magneto commanded, and Pietro watched as she turned her wild dark eyes to her father. "Calm down. There's no danger here that necessitates this sort of reaction. Your brother is being his normal overly-dramatic self."

Pietro felt Wanda's hand relax. "I know. I'm sorry." She sounded miserable. "Sometimes I just—I don't know why it does that." She stood up, still obviously shaken. "Excuse me. I'll—I'll be right back." She left, rather quickly, heading towards the restrooms.

Pietro made a move as if he was going to stand to follow her, but Magneto stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Sit down, Pietro."

One did not disobey when Magneto spoke in that voice, father or no. Pietro sat, his arms crossed over his chest, staring intently at the table.

"Your sister. You say she has no idea about how I have altered her memories, yet she still seems…unbalanced. Why is that?"

"How should I know?" Pietro snapped, angered. "I don't know what the problem with Wanda is, but her powers do that when she's upset. It's better than it _was_, surely you can see that."

"Of course it is," Magneto said, infuriatingly calm, pulling his wallet from his pocket and finding cash to pay their bill. "I have told you that what I did to Wanda was for her own good. However, if you keep upsetting her as you did earlier..."

The injustice of _that_ stung. "She hates you," Pietro reminded him in a furious whisper.

"No, she _hated_ me," Magneto said, standing up. "Just as I recall she hated _you_, as well. She doesn't hate us any longer." He smiled, and Pietro turned to see Wanda returning to the table. His next words were quiet and aimed at Pietro. "If she finds out what happened, and I learn _you_ are the culprit…don't think I will take that betrayal lightly, _son_."

"This is the most fucked up family ever," Pietro muttered, standing as well. He shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for Magneto to berate him for his language as he had earlier with Wanda.

Magneto looked down at him, and Pietro could have _sworn_ he looked amused. "Perhaps. As it is, this is the only family we have. Do not forget that."

Like he _could_ forget it, even if he wanted to. Pietro remembered he was Magneto's son every time he looked in a damned mirror. He was momentarily envious of Wanda for looking like the mother they'd never known. Sometimes he wished he looked like _her_, too.

Still, it was becoming increasingly clear to Pietro that he shared very little else with the man. It made him feel like he was a failure, which was stupid, because he didn't _want_ to be like his father…did he? _No. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Nothing I've ever done has been good enough for him._

"Are you all right now, Wanda?" Magneto asked courteously. He reached out a hand, as if he was going to touch her, but at the very last moment his hand dropped back to his side.

Wanda nodded, looking a little embarrassed but mostly just tired and unhappy. "Yeah. Guess Pietro's not the only one who's high strung."

"Maybe we get that from Mom," Pietro said before he could stop himself. He watched his father's eyes flash with something indescribable, watched the older man's face shut down completely, and realized he'd pretty much ended the family dinner right there.

Relief surged through him at the thought. _Finally_. If he had to act like an ass to keep this from being a regular occurrence, then he'd do it. A free meal was _not_ worth all this stress.

"Possibly. Or perhaps it is your sad lack of discipline, Pietro. Thank you both for meeting me for dinner. Please do let me know if you require anything. You know how to reach me." With that, Magneto turned and strode purposefully towards the exit, leaving them both to watch him leave.

_Well, this part at least is familiar territory._

"Oh, this is all my fault," Wanda said in a whisper after he'd left. She buried her face in her hands; the windows began to shake.

Oh _no_.

"No, hey—sis, look. It's my fault—you know I can't ever think before I speak," Pietro said desperately, putting his hand on Wanda's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

It was growing dark outside as they walked home. Wanda had her arms wrapped around herself, silent, her shoulders hunched as if in defeat. "It's me, isn't it? He can't stand to be around me, because I can't control myself. Mr. Self-Control with his psychopath daughter," she whispered, and the ache in her voice made him want to hit something.

"No," he said, catching her by the shoulders. "That's not it. He—I annoy him, Wanda, you know that." He swallowed nervously before adding, "I always have."

"Then what is it, Pietro? Why doesn't he like me anymore? Like _us_? He did when we were younger—I remember!" Her face was twisted with confusion. "Now it seems like I make him nervous and you—" she stopped, looking away. The words _disappoint him_ hung heavy, though unsaid, in the air between them.

"Yeah, well. He's not going to win Father of the Year anytime soon, sis, so don't worry about it. Let's go get an ice cream," Pietro muttered, putting his arm around her shoulders.

She gave him a hesitant smile. "An ice cream? God, Pietro, how lame of an idea is that? What are we, ten?"

He wondered if in her false memories of her happy childhood, if they'd gone to get ice cream together. He sort of hoped so. "Would you rather go vandalize something? Steal a car? Trip someone?"

She laughed weakly. "Yeah. I think that'd be better. I mean, I'm wired for destruction, right? And you're such a punk." She hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Me? Nope. I'd rather have an ice cream," Pietro informed her, then leaned down and wiped at the smudge of mascara under her eyes with his thumb. "You looked like a raccoon," he explained gruffly.

"Oh. Thanks." She surprised him by hugging him. The press of her body against his was sudden and warm; he couldn't remember the last time his sister had embraced him. Possibly she had in the aftermath of the battle with Apocalypse, but all of that was so hazy he had a hard time remembering it. Certainly it would have been before she'd been sent away, when they were children.

Neither of them spoke again on the walk home, but Pietro kept his arm around her shoulders, and Wanda didn't tell him to remove it.

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NMCL: Yes, poor Lance. One-track teenage boy mind :) Thanks for reading, glad you liked the chapter and the characters both!

BrennaM: Oh, Wanda. Haha. Our poor Wanda. I do love torturing characters so. Really, that would be worrisome if it wasn't such fun. Thanks so much for reading!

Nercia Genesis: Rogueneto! HAHA! That's funny. And you shall get your wish in the next chapter, so stay tuned! Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **So finally the fic lives up to the rating! In this chapter, Rogue confronts Magneto and learns that sometimes, hate can turn into something else entirely. Please do be aware that there is a strong sexual dominance and submission element to this chapter, so if this is something that bothers you, you may not like this chapter. As always, my thanks to Nevacaruso for an amazing beta (do go read her stories--love her LanceXKitty, as it so deserves love!) and to y'all for reading!

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**Chapter 9**

Rogue took a deep breath before she knocked on the heavy oak door, unable to believe what she was about to do. It was absurd, really, but she'd run out of ideas.

She'd had the conversation with Jean a few nights ago about how she needed to "learn to work with Magneto" and that "if the Professor trusts him, Rogue, you should too." It hadn't done anything except anger Rogue that she was being reprimanded for having problems training with a _man who had tried to kill her_.

"Jean, can you tell me you _honestly_ trust him?" Rogue had demanded, convinced that Jean couldn't be _that_ naïve. She had to think for herself, didn't she? Jean always struck Rogue as being fairly independent if not a little too straight-laced, but surely she didn't believe everything the Professor said as gospel truth?

Except that it seemed she _did_. "I trust the Professor," Jean repeated firmly, like it was some demented mantra that repeating would keep bad things from happening. "Rogue, I'm serious. This is causing problems with the team. You're just going to _have_ to find a way to work with him."

Rogue had mumbled, "Fine," in response and marched off to her room, seething the entire way.

That night as she'd tried to fall asleep, she _had_ thought about what Jean had said. It seemed impossible. How was she supposed to trust Magneto wasn't there to do something awful to all of them? If there was just some way she could know for _sure_….

_Wait. There is. I ain't a telepath, but I'm as good as one if I can get a hold of his bare skin._

A few moments after her knock, the door swung open its own--_showoff_--and a deep voice came from the darkness within. "Yes?"

Rogue swallowed, trying to think of what to say. She kept coming up blank, which wasn't like her.

"Is someone there?" The voice grew closer as he approached.

"Yeah. Me," Rogue said, wincing at the rather threatening sound of her own voice.

Magneto appeared at the door, giving her a curious look. "I must admit I would not have expected to see _you_ here."

"Can I come in?" Rogue asked, rather rudely, but only because she didn't want anyone to see her standing in the hallway outside of his bedroom. _Can I come in and use my mutant powers on you?_

Magneto raised a brow but stepped aside, allowing her entrance. "If you wish, though I hardly think this is proper."

"Do you really care?" she asked him, eyeing him warily as she looked around his bedroom. There was very little there to suggest someone lived in it, least of all him. _What were you expecting, metal furniture?_

He shrugged and gave her his shark's smile, the one that made her want to attack him with her bare hands for no other reason than to wipe it off his face. "Not particularly, no." The door slammed shut behind him.

Rogue took a deep breath, stilling her growing anger. "I've been given this lecture 'bout how I'm supposed to trust you," she said, glaring at him, her body language clearly displaying her displeasure.

"Ah, yes. I've been told I should try harder to understand your fear of me," he responded, watching her with hooded eyes. He was attempting to lean casually against the wall, but there was nothing relaxed about his posture.

"I ain't afraid of you," she snapped immediately, narrowing her eyes at him. Her hands were on her hips, her chin tilted defiantly.

"Oh, you aren't?" He took a step towards her. "Perhaps I'm not trying hard enough, then."

Rogue rolled her eyes, refusing to give in to his intimidation as he approached her with lazy, graceful movements.

They were standing very close to each other again. He looked down at her with an imperious expression. "Why are you here, Rogue?"

"I figured out a way I might be able to stop wantin' to kill you," she said bluntly.

He gave her a very disbelieving look. "I doubt that."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed, though she couldn't really argue with him. "All right, then. Not kill you, but at least…look, I ain't so good with trusting people. I just need to know you ain't here to—" at the sound of annoyance he made, she stopped short. "What?"

"Are you incapable of speaking English correctly? It's not even my first language and I speak it far better than you do." The little smile on his face suggested he knew exactly how insulting his words were.

"I was wrong," Rogue said, trembling in anger. "There _ain't_ no way it's ever gonna happen, me trustin' you. Forget I even showed up." She tried to move around him, but he moved with her, smoothly blocking her path.

"What was your idea, Rogue?"

"Get out of my way, Magneto," she hissed, her small body tense and poised for battle.

He smirked down at her. "Or what? You're a tiny little thing, aren't you? Perhaps you'll use those powers of yours on me and drain mine, and then we can duel with metal once again. Let's see—I have my helmet and a set of keys. Shall I be the gentleman and let you have the larger of the two objects? Do try not to destroy the helmet, it's the only one I have." He sounded completely unthreatened by the concept of fighting her.

"I really, really hate you," she snapped, angry at being so casually dismissed. "I want to leave. _Now_."

"After you tell me why you're here," he responded, his voice infuriatingly calm.

Rogue resisted the urge to stamp her foot in irritation. "I thought maybe I could see you didn't have any sneaky plans for takin' over the world again, or stealing things, or killing anyone."

Of course, she wasn't being quite honest with him. She'd actually expected him to refuse, thus proving he was plotting something he didn't want her to see. Then she could just go tell the Professor or Jean—who would telepathically know she wasn't lying—and then they would make Magneto leave once or for all.

_Then they'll have to apologize for doubting me._ What a nice, vindicating sort of thought.

He didn't refuse, though. Instead, he moved slowly forward with a menacing look on his face that actually _did_ manage to frighten her. She wasn't afraid of him when he was in a temper, but that glacial coldness that slid into his gaze made her nervous. Hating herself for it, she backed up under his continued forward advance.

"You came here to touch me?" His voice was sinister-soft as he approached her, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from him. The way he'd said that sounded almost… _obscene_.

Her back hit the wall and she stifled a gasp. Slowly, her fingers pulled at the fingers of her glove on her right hand. Her heart was racing again, and she was reminded of the night in the kitchen when he'd backed her against the counter. "You get off on cornerin' women so they can't escape?" she demanded, fighting to keep the apprehension out of her voice.

He braced both of his arms against the wall on either side of her head, trapping her. "Do you really want to know what _gets me off_, Rogue?"

Her cheeks colored at that, and she shook her head slowly from side-to-side. "N-no." Heat suffused her body, curling warm and low in her stomach, even as she felt the cold prick of fear dance up and down her spine.

"Are you sure? You did ask." He bent his head slowly, his mouth next to her ear. "So touch me, if that's what you want to do."

She was very conscious of his body so close to hers. His scent was spicy and masculine, and not at all unpleasant, damn him. "You know all I gotta do is touch you, and big and strong as you are, I can drop you. I can do it, Magneto."

"Of that, I have no doubt," he purred, and she hated the roughened, dark caress of his voice against her ear. It reminded her of the slide of silk against her skin, one of her favorite sensations. "Go on, girl. If you want to know the truth of me, touch me." His mouth descended closer; she could feel the slightest brush of his lips against her ear. "I dare you."

Rogue dropped her glove to the floor, and then brought her bare hand up as if she was going to place it on his face. Instead of touching him, however, she slapped him as hard as she could. His head jerked back and she smiled fiercely at him, eyes glittering, pleased as she saw his fair skin mottled and red from her slap.

"That wasn't very nice of you," he hissed, grabbing her wrists with his hand and slamming them above her head. Rogue cried out in pain as they hit the wall behind her, her breath escaping in quick, rapid bursts.

He looked down at her, eyes glittering. "Perhaps this will work better." The skin-on-skin contact started the pull of her powers, sharp and hot like tiny dagger-pricks against her skin. She actually arched upwards as his power—and his mind—flowed into her, showing her flashes of memory in quick, rapid bursts.

_Dinner with his children had not gone well. Wanda was upset, and Pietro was tense and unhappy. Flash of him walking home, angry and alone, comforted only by the hum of metal in the city around him. He didn't know what to do with either of them. He didn't know why he kept trying to do anything._

_The thick shame of his failure with Apocalypse flowed like poison in his veins, but he was proud of his children for how they'd fought in that last battle. He had been horrified when he'd come to from Apocalypse's mind control and realized what had happened. The hesitancy with which he embraced them, these children he barely knew, the added stress of what he had to fight to protect. _

_He didn't want to live at Xavier's, but not because he hated the man. He hated his pacifism, hated that Charles couldn't see that now, more than ever, mutants needed to take their rightful place in the evolutionary scheme of things. Survival of the fittest…._

_Older memories of the camps, of being captive, of being hated for something he had no control over. Waking up muttering in a language that wasn't English, fingers twisted in the sheets. Remembering the sick taste of fear in his mouth, powerless to do anything, when they dragged his parents away._

_He was trapped, as surely as he ever had been, in a house full of people who didn't see the truth, who would never see the truth, until it was too late. Xavier's children were too brainwashed by his old friend's dream of co-existence to accept that the real world wasn't a Danger Room simulation, where everyone walked away from the battle alive and whole. Maybe they had a hint of it, now, after Apocalypse, but they would never really know, not until it was too late…_

_His people would suffer, again. The humans would lock them up, they would be killed in droves all because of fear, and once again he was as useless as that little boy in the camps. Powerless._

_And he hated that more than anything._

With a jolt she came back to herself, her mind racing. She was white faced, leaning against the wall as she took slow, deep breaths to make herself calm down.

"Has that answered your question, girl?" He nearly spat the words at her; she didn't blame him. She knew what an intrusion it was, to have someone know your innermost thoughts like that.

Rogue could _feel_ metal calling out to her like a lover. Two floors beneath her, the chamber that housed Cerebro hummed quietly. She reached out to it with the metal-sense, let it slide around her like water. She couldn't answer him.

With two quick strides, he crossed the room and pinned her against the wall again, this time careful not to touch the bare skin of her arm. "Has it?"

"Let go of me," she hissed.

He pressed himself against her, and Rogue struggled against his dominance, fighting to get her wrists free from his grasp. "You'll just leave, when you've had enough," she snapped, twisting as she fought against him. "You're not here to be one of us. You're here because you don't know what else to do."

"A fact that I assure you Charles Xavier is well aware of," Magneto said tightly, not releasing her.

Rogue pulled her arms, trying to twist free. "You hate me," she said suddenly. "Don't you."

"No. I hate what you've let yourself become. Useless, when you could be so powerful." He stared down at her, his chill eyes predatory. "Don't you wish to use it, Rogue, your gift? You like the way it feels, don't you, even though it hurts…"

"I want to use it right _now_," she snapped, unable to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging what he said was correct. "Get _off_ me!"

"No," he responded defiantly, tightening his hold even further.

Rogue stopped struggling, drowning beneath a wave of pure, unadulterated fury. _How dare he…!_ They'd have to get rid of him after this, they would _have _to. She smiled sweetly at the thought, filled with a malicious sort of glee. "This make you feel less like a failure, Magneto? Pinnin' me to the wall? Does it make you feel like more of a man?"

"My girl, I don't think you will like the direction this conversation is headed," he said in a low, menacing voice, "and if you think insulting my pride will wound me, be warned. It will take a great deal more than that." He reached one hand out and drew it slowly down the streak of white in her hair. "You're more than welcome to try, if you wish."

Her entire focus narrowed to nothing but him as she stilled, girding herself to fight him off of her. She would, if nothing else, press her face to his bare skin to dislodge him. She tried to twist her leg behind his, to do a move Logan had showed them all in self-defense class, but he stepped quickly to deflect the motion.

"Now, now. If you want to get me away from you, Rogue, use the gifts you've been given. Go on," he urged her in a silky voice. "No need to fight me with fists when your pretty skin will do the job just fine."

"It's more satisfyin' to put you on your ass without it," Rogue bit out, frustrated as he sifted again so she couldn't move.

"Too bad for you," he answered smugly. "It's the only thing that will work."

Rogue made a sound like a growl, rearing up, deciding she just needed to get away and go see the Professor so she could get this psychopath _away_ from her. He looked vaguely triumphant as she did so, and as she forced herself closer to him. As she did, she felt something very insistent and hard pressed against her, and her gaze snapped upwards to lock with his.

_Push him away, Rogue, now!_

She didn't, though. She stood rooted to the floor, staring at him with absolute confusion, unsure what to say. He released her hands, and she lowered them from above her head and stared at his glittering grey eyes as the fury between them was transmuted into something else entirely, something she was powerless to fight against. Slowly she moved her hands to his shoulders; a sign of consent, though she wasn't sure exactly for what.

Before she could say anything, his hands grasped her hips and he hauled her up and against him, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist so she didn't fall, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt. He shoved her back against the wall again, but she didn't care, and she was breathing so fast she thought she might faint.

He shoved her skirt up her waist, hands sliding up the inside of her thighs, covered with her nylon bodystocking. She could feel the heat of his palms burning her skin through the thin material. He looked up at her, obviously waiting for some sign that he should continue.

Her legs tightened instinctively as she pushed her hips against him hesitantly, trying to find the perfect angle to ease the growing ache between her thighs. Frustrated, she squirmed against him, careful to keep her exposed skin from touching his. The look she gave him was a cross between a challenge and demand.

He gave a low laugh and shifted slightly so that his hardened erection was sliding against her _just_ where it should, against the rough nylon and soft satin of her panties. "Again," he urged her, and she couldn't help but obey and slide herself against him like he wanted, and this time it was right and _Oh God_….

They moved together in a frenzy, his hands bruising on her hips, her legs squeezing him as she bucked herself against his cock. Nothing had ever felt like this in her entire life, so hot and urgent and desperate, as if she'd die if he stopped it—

The pressure of his hands on her hips was painful, the scratch of his trousers between her legs was chafing and she was biting her lower lip between her teeth hard enough to draw blood. She could have cared less about any of it, though, and she vaguely realized the high, keening noise she heard was coming from _her_.

"Good girl, you want to come, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. He took the flesh there between his teeth and nipped sharply, not enough for her powers to start, but enough for the pain to rush like lightening down her spine.

"I hate you," she moaned, twisting her hands in the fabric of his shirt. Her hips bucked again, insistent, as she trembled in his grasp. Why did she want this, why did she think she'd _die_ if it stopped…

"Say yes, or I'll stop…" The next thrust of his hips was harder still; Rogue didn't know if he meant it, about stopping, but she didn't want to take the chance. He dragged her harder against him, and she fixed him with a heated glare. "Rogue…"

"Yes," she moaned, hating him, wanting him, wanting release so badly she could _taste_ it. "Yes…_God_, please…"

He gave another dark laugh and moved her faster against him, and when the pressure finally broke Rogue threw her head back, hitting against the wall, and white lights sparked behind her closed eyes from both intense pleasure and biting pain. She dimly heard him groan and buck one last time against her as he came.

They remained pressed together for a few moments longer, and then they pulled away almost instantaneously. Rogue stared at him, her entire body shaking in the aftermath of what had just happened.

His hair was mussed—had she grabbed it, there at the end?—and his cheekbones were stained with color. His eyes looked fierce and hot, and she was viciously pleased to see his breathing was as unsteady as hers.

Rogue drew a shaking hand through her hair, then slowly bent down to retrieve her fallen glove. She felt warm and sticky between her thighs, but she'd never in her life felt so…satisfied, replete. Because of _him_. Shaking, she pulled her skirt down, and the slide of her fingers against her nylon-covered skin was a delicious sensation.

Oh, what had she _done_? With _Magneto_, of all people?

He must have seen the look on her face, because he took a tentative step towards her. "Rogue…" It was the slightly concerned tone of voice, something she'd never heard from him, that pushed her past her limit of endurance.

She turned and fled from his room, knowing it was cowardly but unable to care. She ran to her room and went straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping her clothes off in a hurry. She leaned against the tile of the shower, hating herself for the hot, delicious throb that accompanied the memory of what she'd just done.

_Good girl…_

Why, _why_ had that been the very best part? The part that made her want to go back, knock on his door, make him do it again…harder, this time, make him pull her hair and bite her neck and…

_No. Never again. It can never, ever happen again._

Now, if she could only make herself believe it—or better yet, if she could make herself _want_ to believe it….

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Nercia Genesis: Hope you like this "Rogneto" chapter! Haha! I can't believe I just wrote that!

Miss Information: Glad to have you back! Wasn't so long ago I was a student myself, so no worries. Just glad to hear you are still enjoying the tale. I do wonder how the kids will react to dear old dad with Rogue, but Magneto and Rogue both are so confused about what just happened that such revelations may be a while in coming! (I swear I don't mean that to be a bad pun). Wanda and her memories...I have an eeeevil (see me rub my hands together in Evil Overlord Glee) plan for that, don't you worry. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Lynx16: Why thank you! I'm glad my characters resonate and work for you. I don't know that this was Rogue trying to kill Magneto like you wanted to see, but hopefully it was close enough? Hee!

Swamp Rat's Cherie: Ah, yes. Poor Rogue doesn't know quite what to think of Magneto at the moment. I think the feeling is mutual! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Nettlez: Yes, indeed, that is going to be a tricky situation! I think it's funny that even with "altered" memories, Wanda is far from "nice". Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **Okay, you probably have guessed by now that I like my writing a little dark and twisted, so writing an actual, functional couple who a)like each other, and b)are the same age, is a little bit of a change. Ha! So, as you might guess from that, we have Lance and Kitty doing exactly what they should be doing after school; making out! Enjoy, and thanks as always for reading!

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**Chapter 10**

"Are you sure this is okay?"

Kitty looked up at Lance and tried very hard not to roll her eyes at him. At first she thought it was cute, how anxious he was to make sure she was fine with going back to the Brotherhood house. It was a sign of that vulnerability she was certain he didn't show to very many people.

By the sixth time he'd asked, though, his uncertainty had gone from cute to exasperating. "Are _you_?" she asked, suddenly worried. Oh, God, why was this so _confusing_…!

"Well…yeah," Lance said, as if the answer was obvious, but she saw the brief flash of color on his cheeks and felt herself grin.

"I'm sure, but like, if you ask me that again?" She let her look finish that sentence.

Lance gave her that irrepressible smile of his that made her want to kiss him. "Got it, babe." He piloted the Jeep towards his house, and Kitty settled back in the seat and enjoyed the way the warm autumn air swirled around her. She liked his car—maybe someday he'd let her drive it, if she asked nicely.

As long as he didn't talk to Wolverine about her driving skills, that was. Or Cyclops. Or anyone, really, except Rogue—and that was only because her roommate was a worse driver than she was.

"So was this really an orphanage?" Kitty asked curiously, reading the sign that flanked the driveway as they turned into the driveway. When he'd parked the car next to the garage, she exited and stood on the concrete, looking up at the house with a critical eye. The windows were in dire need of a thorough washing and the paint was chipped and peeling, but with some renovations it could be really nice.

Okay, with _a lot_ of renovations. Then again, maybe she was just spoiled since she lived in a mansion.

"Don't know," Lance said with a shrug, appearing unconcerned. He stood next to her, following her gaze up towards the house. "I tried to clean up since you were coming over," he said defensively, as if he were seeing the myriad of problems with his home for the first time.

Touched, Kitty took his arm and squeezed lightly. "That was nice of you. I'd have to clean up my room if you came over, too."

"Yeah, cause Rogue's a slob," Lance said immediately, heading towards the door. Kitty's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, until she remembered that Rogue had once lived there. It seemed strange to think about that, Rogue in the Brotherhood.

The inside was dark and the floors were rather dusty, but it wasn't as bad as she supposed it could have been. Kitty opened her mouth to say something nice to Lance when she felt the muscles of his arm tense beneath her hand almost imperceptibly.

"Oh, look. Lance brought home a stray kitty cat." Pietro was leaning against the door that led into the kitchen, smirking. "Guess you're going want to keep it, aren't you?"

"Hi Pietro," she said cautiously, reminding herself firmly that the Brotherhood weren't the bad guys any longer, and that Pietro was her boyfriend's roommate so it would be best if she could at least be civil to him.

_That doesn't mean you have to like him, though._

He ignored her greeting entirely. "So what brings you to our humble abode? Is it Lance?" His rather incredulous tone piqued her temper.

"Yeah, actually," she responded with a hint of temper. "Or the Jeep, if you want to be technical about it, though it sounds like you're just being difficult."

"Ooh, kitty cat has a temper!" Pietro's sneer became more pronounced. "If you two get in a fight, could you try not to make the house fall down, Avalanche?"

"Is there a reason you're being such an asshole?" Lance asked, his voice tight. "I mean, any more than normal?" He took a threatening step forward.

_Boys_. "Um, don't worry about it, Lance. I'm sure this is just Pietro being…friendly." Kitty said nervously, not wanting them to fight.

"My brother's never friendly." Wanda walked into the room, shooting her brother a glare. "God, can't you be nice to anyone, ever?"

"And ruin my reputation?" Pietro laughed. "Unlikely. Hey, pretty kitty, you want a real man for once, you know where to find me. My room's down the hall from Lance's."

Lance made a sound that sounded like a growl and went to shrug her hand off his arm, but Pietro rushed out of the hallway and up the stairs with his powers before any of them could move.

Lance turned his ire on Wanda instead. "Your brother is such a—"

"Don't bother," Wanda interrupted him, holding up her hand. "I know." Her eyes settled on Kitty. "Hi." She sounded as cautious with her greeting as Kitty had been with hers to Pietro.

"Hi, Wanda. Hey, you should call Rogue. She's been all weirded out about something ever since the weekend and like, I have no idea what it is, but she might like to get out of the house."

"Yeah? What's wrong with her?"

"She keeps brooding and shooting death glares at your father." Kitty winced, hoping the other girl didn't take offense to that.

Wanda just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'll call her. Maybe she wants to go the mall. Can I borrow your Jeep?" she asked, looking towards Lance. "I'll just go to Xavier's and pick her up."

Lance reached in his pocket and tossed the keys over, which Wanda caught deftly. "Let Toad or your punk ass brother drive and I'll make the ceiling fall on you when you're sleeping," he warned.

Wanda glared at him. "Like they're invited. And if you do that with the ceiling, at least I'll be asleep so I don't have to see that stupid _face_ you make when you use your—"

"Hello, you want to use my car or not?" Lance interrupted in an affronted tone. "If you do, you shouldn't insult me."

Wanda smiled sweetly at him. "You already gave me the keys, so why can't I insult you?" She pocketed his keys in her long coat. "I'll be back. Thanks. Have a nice…whatever it is you're doing."

Kitty felt her face flush at that, and Wanda laughed. It was a nice laugh, though, and Kitty was glad that maybe at least _one_ other person here besides Lance didn't hate her. "Bye, Wanda. Thanks in advance for cheering Rogue up, since I have to live with her."

"Yeah, well, Rogue's not really cheerful, ever, but I'll do my best." Wanda sauntered out of the house, and a few moments later they heard the Jeep pull out of the driveway.

"Like she's one to talk about being cheerful." Lance turned to look at her. He looked sort of uncertain. "So." He scuffed his foot on the floor, hands in his pockets, his hair hanging down and covering his dark eyes.

Kitty smiled and reached out, brushing his hair back. She felt a small thrill of feminine satisfaction as he sucked in a breath at her touch. "So?"

"You, um, wanna go—" he shook his head slightly, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along after him up the stairs. There was something a little exciting about not being treated like she was going to break at any second.

Lance's room _was_ cleaned—recently, if the overpowering smell of lemon-scented furniture cleaner was any indication—and it actually looked nice. She sat on his nicely made bed, watching as he messed with the stereo on his desk. "You're not, like, going to turn on Barry White or something are you?"

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Lance," she said, giggling, "You know. Barry _White_. The guy with the deep voice that men play to get women to make out with them."

"Oh!" He grinned. "No, ugh. That stuff sucks." He put a CD in the machine and put the empty case back on his desk. "Though I don't have any Shania Twain, so you're out of luck. You'll just have to make out with me for other reasons."

"Oh, will I?" she teased, smiling. This felt so _normal_, being here with him. She supposed that was a good sign, since their relationship had always been plagued with uncertainty and chaos.

When the music started, Kitty was glad to hear it wasn't loud and obnoxious. It was dark and definitely a rock band, but otherwise it was pretty mellow. Finished with the music selection, Lance crossed the room and joined her on the bed. He sat next to her but made no move to touch her at all.

Well, maybe all the uncertainty wasn't gone, after all. Though Kitty figured this was probably normal for most couples—even the ones without the former enemy-status or world-saving issues—she still really wanted to kiss him. Deciding she may as well take matters into her own hands, she leaned forward to press her lips against his, amused at the surprised sound he made as she did so.

He recovered quickly enough, though, putting his arms around her and kissing her back eagerly. Kitty put her hands on his shoulders and leaned against him, shyly parting her lips. He made a small sound at that and pulled her closer with a quick hard tug, which made her breath catch in her throat as they continued kissing and she ended up practically in his lap.

It wasn't long before he shifted her on her back on the bed, lying partly on top of her. "Is—is this okay?" he asked, his voice husky. Touched by his concern, Kitty nodded and put her arms around his neck.

"Yeah," she said, tugging him back down. Their kisses grew more heated, and soon she felt his hand slide up her stomach very slowly, as if he were waiting for her to tell him to stop. She didn't though, because that was pretty much the _last_ thing she wanted.

When his hand covered her breast, she moaned out loud and pushed herself up a little, feeling very warm and dizzy as she lay beneath him. She liked the way his breath was coming very hard and fast, liked the way she could feel his hand trembling a little as it caressed her through her sweater.

His mouth moved to her neck, and she squirmed beneath him as shivers of delight raced up and down her spine. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands, so she rubbed his back and then, as he continued to kiss her neck, she slid one up into his hair and tugged playfully. He seemed to like that; he groaned and kissed her mouth again, and his hand squeezed her breast a little roughly. Kitty made a whimpering sound and arched up into his touch, urging him to continue.

When she felt his hand slide up under her sweater, his fingers warm on the bare skin of her stomach, she tensed a little at the unfamiliar sensation but didn't stop him. He didn't do anything more than draw his fingers back and forth as he kissed her, though she really wished he'd just move his hand higher…_please, yes, it's all right, just--_

When he finally did, she found she was digging her nails into his shoulders and breathing very fast as he rubbed her nipple through the fabric of her bra. Sharp bursts of pleasure ran down her body to curl low in her stomach, spreading out in a warm wave. He shifted over her, groaning something, but she was too far gone to hear what it was he was saying. She noticed that part of her left arm had phased through his bed, and she pulled it back with a gasp. That wasn't good, but she couldn't help it—this was all so new and wonderful and—

Suddenly, his warmth was gone and Kitty blinked in confusion as he pulled away, removing his hand from underneath her sweater, which was pushed up above her pretty blue bra. "We, uh…maybe we should stop," he said, staring at her satin-covered breasts, and she might have appreciated the husky tone of his voice and the glazed look in his eyes if she wasn't in such a daze.

She sat up and pulled her sweater down, though a bit reluctantly. "Is—is something wrong?" Lance was a boy, was he supposed to want to _stop_ when she had her shirt pulled up like that?

Oh, God, was something the matter with her? Did he think she was horrible and ugly, was he repulsed by her body—

He shook his head rather violently at that. "N-no. I just—" he looked at her, his eyes heavy-lidded, cheekbones stained with color, seemingly unable to finish a thought.

She shook her head, at sea. "Am I—did I do something wrong?" She bit her lip nervously. She didn't really have any practice at this making out stuff, maybe he'd been _bored_ and that's why he'd stopped. After all, she'd not really _done_ anything…

Lance stared at her as if she were crazy. "God, no. Kitty…" he reached out and touched her face, shaking his head. "No." His fingers gently caressed her cheek before pulling away. She wondered what he was thinking, but was a little too shy to ask.

Cautiously, she moved closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her and drew her close. He smelled nice, she realized, like soap and something indefinable that was just _him_. It was an outdoorsy scent; it reminded her of mountains.

They sat that way for a while, both of them quiet, Lance playing idly with her hair. Eventually, they moved away from each other. Kitty sat on his bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, and Lance paced around the room as if he had too much energy and no way to expend it.

They ended up talking about their respective roommates. His stories made her giggle and occasionally shake her head in disbelief, though part of her wished he still lived at the Institute so she could see him more. Then she thought about the telepaths, and realized maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all.

"I—I need to get home soon," she said regretfully. She'd wondered if maybe they could make out again before Wanda got back with the Jeep. She sort of hoped Wanda would stay at the mall until it closed.

"Guess you have to do homework and stuff." He returned to sit next to her, nudging her playfully with his elbow. "Being a goody-goody and all."

"Shut up," Kitty teased him, leaning forward until her nose was lightly touching his. "Don't be mean to me or I'll beat you up."

"Yeah?" He narrowed his eyes. "You wanna fight, Pryde, is that it?" He tackled her backwards, and she giggled as she looked up at him, looming above her, his dark hair hanging in his face again.

"Maybe, maybe not," she said cheerfully, smiling up at him. He leaned down and kissed her—exactly what she'd hoped he'd do, of course—and that put an end to their conversation for a while. Right when he'd grown a bit bolder and pushed her shirt up again, his fingers fumbling inexpertly at the clasp of her bra, there was a most unwelcome intrusion in the form of a knock at the door.

"Yo, Lance, you done gettin' it on in there?" Pietro's voice, sharp and very annoying, made Kitty want to phase through the wall and punch him in the face for interrupting them.

"What do you want?" Lance called back, rolling his eyes. "He's just jealous," he murmured to Kitty, winking at her as he got to his feet.

"Wanda's back and she's fixing dinner. She wants to know if your _girlfriend_ is going to eat with us." Pietro sounded like that was absolutely the worst idea he'd ever heard.

"You want some dinner?" Lance asked, looking down at her. "Wanda's an okay cook," he assured her quickly, remembering the stories he'd told her about Todd's culinary attempts and how sometimes it had ended with Wanda and Pietro sneaking into his room to eat pizza on the roof.

Kitty sat up and smoothed her hair and her clothes, thinking about it. Part of her felt that she _should_ stay, if only because it would annoy Pietro, but it really _was_ late. "I should really get home," she said, looking around for her shoes.

"Make sure Fred doesn't eat my dinner while I'm taking Kitty home," Lance called, and they could hear Pietro's sigh through the door.

"I make no promises, yo. Hurry up and you won't have to worry about it."

"He's such an ass sometimes," Lance muttered, yanking the door open. The hallway was vacant.

"Sometimes?" Kitty said uncharitably, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "That was mean, sorry."

He grinned at her. "S'okay. He's not a bad guy, not really. He's just under a lot of stress."

Kitty wasn't so sure about that, but she didn't know Pietro as well as Lance did. "That's nice of you to defend him," she said, standing next to him. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "You're sweet."

Lance snorted. "No, I'm really not, but if you think so I guess that's okay." He grinned down at her. "As long as you're the _only_ one who says that, babe."

When they got downstairs, Kitty poked her head into the kitchen. She tried not to giggle at the sight of Wanda cooking, which involved the other girl muttering a lot and stepping around Todd, who was following her around the kitchen.

"Hey, sorry I'm not staying for dinner."

Wanda looked up from the stove. "Oh, it's okay, believe me. I don't blame you," she said with a sigh, nearly tripping over Todd as she turned to fill up a pan with water. "Would you get out of my _way_?"

Kitty jumped as several things fell from the shelves, a glass sliding from the counter to break into several pieces on the floor. Wanda put her fingers on her temples and rubbed them as if she had a headache, eyes closed. Todd began cleaning up the glass without a word.

"And that's why this place is always a mess," Lance muttered from behind her, his hand resting possessively on her waist. "C'mon."

"You'll have to come for dinner at the Institute sometime," Kitty offered, then realized she could hardly invite Wanda without inviting the rest of them. "All of you," she said, though it was somewhat hesitant even to her own ears.

Wanda exchanged a look with her brother, who was seated at the table. Kitty was almost surprised to see him doing his homework, but then she felt bad about that. Just because Pietro was jerk sometimes didn't mean he wasn't smart or didn't care about school. After all, she really didn't know him very well.

"My keys, Scarlet?" Lance's fingers tightened a little on Kitty's waist as he pulled her closer, addressing Wanda as she dumped a package of noodles in the water boiling on the stove.

"Oh, right." Wanda looked around, a little dazed. "Keys…" she raised her hand and they flew from the pile of groceries on the table into her hand. She tossed them to Lance. "Hey, look. Sometimes that stupid probability thing works in my favor."

"What are the odds?" Pietro quipped without looking up from the table, and Kitty actually giggled. He raised his head at that and gave her an unfriendly stare, which effectively killed her amusement. _He's trying really hard for me not to like him._

_And succeeding._

"See you later, Kitty," Wanda said, her voice distracted but friendly. "By the way, Rogue's not in a much better mood—she wouldn't tell me what had happened, either, only that she 'did something really stupid '."

Kitty shrugged. "She'll tell me if she wants to, I guess. Thanks for trying, though." She exchanged a final smile with Wanda and said goodbye to Todd, who was too busy staring at Wanda to notice.

They passed Fred on their way out of the house—rather, Kitty had to flatten herself to a wall as he passed—but he only mumbled something and continued towards the kitchen. Several seconds later, she heard Wanda yelling something about the dangers of eating undercooked meat.

"That's cute you called Wanda _Scarlet_," Kitty said to Lance as she climbed into the Jeep, buckling her seatbelt.

"Yeah, well, she'd kill me if I called her _Witch_. If _she_ didn't, Pietro would." He started the car and looked over his shoulder as he began backing out of the driveway. "Or he'd _try_, anyway."

"I thought she hated him?" Kitty said, confused. Was it just her imagination or did Lance tense at that?

"Yeah, well, that thing with Apocalypse…it changed a lot of things, didn't it? Like you and me."

"I guess so," she said, shrugging. "Though it just seems strange he'd be that mad at you for insulting her."

"Oh, he'd never admit it," Lance said. "But it'd make him mad."

"That's sort of cute," she said, looking up at the stars as they headed back towards the Institute.

"No, it's sort of demented," Lance responded, resting his hand on her knee. He squeezed gently.

Kitty grinned up at him. "That, too," she said agreeably, and settled back in comfortable silence as he drove her home.

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Scarlett: Ah, well, let's see if I can answer your questions! No, Rogue isn't pregnant--they didn't actually have sex, yeah? Just some over-the-clothes action is all. And as for what is in store for them...mwahaha! All shall be revealed later. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Nercia Genesis: Glad you liked it! I shall now giggle thinking about that song, which admittedly is not one of my personal favorites, in connection with this scene. Hee! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

BrennaM: Yay, shivery is good! Thank you!

Swamp Rat's Chere: Ah! You are a chere, not a cherie. Got it :) Glad you liked the chapter!

Vaguilera.1: Thank you so much!

Archmagus: Thanks! And as to whether or not Xavier or Jean know...lalala. Ain't telling. Hee! But you can come to your own conclusion if they do or not, and things might be a little clearer later on. Thanks again for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **Here we have Jean allowing Charles liberties of the mental sort. This is a bit disturbing, but I'm sure y'all are not surprised :)

Thank you so much for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

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**Chapter 11**

Jean sat cross-legged on the comfortable sofa, her eyes closed. She was listening intently to the murmur of the Professor's voice, trying to calm herself down and relax enough to begin her exercises. It wasn't working very well—they'd been at it for nearly twenty minutes, and still she hadn't been able to make herself concentrate.

"You're tense, Jean—is anything the matter?" His voice was quietly concerned, and he spoke aloud rather than telepathically as if he didn't want to intrude upon her thoughts.

"I—" she took a deep breath, wanting to lie and say everything was okay, or tell him she was just tired. She didn't want to tell him about her last argument with Scott, or how she'd almost lost her temper with Bobby and Amara in training, or how she was having these horrible dreams where it felt like her head was going to explode from the pressure…

"I think I'm having trouble adjusting," she said suddenly, looking at him nervously.

"Adjusting to what?" he asked, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "Not that you're wrong, of course, but I merely want to get to the specifics."

Jean paused for a moment, sort of wishing she hadn't brought this up, wishing she'd just said _I'm tired_ and left it that. Not that he'd have believed her, but he would have left it alone. "I just—things are so different. My parents are angry about college, and the others still see me as one of them and not as an authority figure, and Scott—" she shook her head briefly, a little uncomfortable discussing that with him.

"Ah. Your parents—well, we knew they might not appreciate what you were doing here, the importance of your work. I'm aware that the situation is stressful for you, and anytime you wish me to speak with them I am more than happy to do so. And as for the students—" he smiled briefly "—I believe they have similar thoughts about all of us, Jean. Even me."

She smiled at that. "I always saw you as an authority figure. I still do." For some reason, that made her blush.

He laughed. "Perhaps that is merely a matter of our age difference."

"That doesn't work for Rogue," she said with a wince, thinking of the girl's continued resentment of Magneto, which seemed to have grown _worse_ in the last few weeks.

Something strange flashed across Charles' face at that. "In time, perhaps that will straighten itself out. We've done all we can without crossing ethical boundaries and forcing them to get along, as much as that might be a relief at this point."

Jean gave a weak laugh at that and nodded, looking down at her hands, which were twisted together in her lap. _Should I tell him about the nightmares?_

He spoke again, hesitantly. "Jean—I know this may be a bit uncomfortable, but do you wish to discuss what problems you are having with Scott? Perhaps I can be of some help."

Jean looked up at that. "I—it's not that I don't think I should tell you," she said earnestly. "It's just that it's sort of hard to explain." She swallowed. "Maybe I could just…show you."

"If you're certain—I don't wish to intrude on private moments." At her startled look, he smiled. "I'm aware I live in a house full of young people, Jean."

She smiled back at him but closed her eyes again. "It's okay. It's not anything…personal, not really." Still she was blushing, a little, as she spoke of it. _Just look, tell me if I'm being too hard on him…_

_If you wish._

Jean concentrated on her and Scott's last argument, which had been about where to go out on Friday night. That wasn't really the problem—it was his lack of decision-making ability that bothered her. She knew very well Scott could make decisions in the heat of battle, so why couldn't he just pick some place to go to dinner?

It was more than that, though. There were moments between them that her restlessness grew worse, that she felt almost _guilty_ at how much she could sense he cared for her. _What if what I have to give him isn't enough_? She felt sometimes like she was drowning, under both the obligations she had and everyone else's expectations of her, and it was horrible and scary and why couldn't she just be _safe_…

_Jean._

Startled, she opened her eyes, staring at Professor Xavier as she fought to control her suddenly rapid breathing. "What's wrong with me, Professor?"

He moved closer to her, reaching out to take one of her hands in his own. She felt herself relax immediately at the touch. "Jean, my dear, you're being too hard on yourself. You have the same doubts and fears that anyone has in a new relationship." He squeezed her hand lightly. "I do remember the feeling, surprisingly enough."

Jean squeezed his hand back. "I know. It's just—everything seems chaotic and I don't like that, and---" she shook her head, expelling a breath. The whirlwind her mind had become began to slow a little. "I'm sorry. I know you need me to be strong."

"You _are_," he said softly, and her gaze was caught by his. "I know it was difficult, when I was serving Apocalypse. I am aware of how dangerous my powers can be if left uncontrolled, and the point of these exercises is so that never happens to you. Jean—will you allow me inside of your mind for a moment?"

She gave him a confused look. "W-what do you mean?"

He patted her hand once more before removing it. "I would like to take a look at your powers. A mutant check-up, if you will. I need to see how much of them are still latent, and when we may expect them to arise."

She sat back on the couch, wondering what had brought this up and more than a little scared at the thought there was _more_ power in there somewhere. "All—all right," she said slowly, unsure why this made her nervous. Perhaps it was the serious way in which he approached it, as if she were harboring some dangerous ability that would kill them all in two seconds flat and had no idea it was there. "Will it—will it hurt?"

"Not physically, though there may be some mental discomfort," he warned her. "Just relax. I promise I won't be peeking at things I shouldn't."

She nodded and settled back into the cushions with her eyes closed.

"Good. You'll be able to feel me in your mind; try not to fight me. You must trust me that I'm not going to hurt you. The instinct to fight back against my intrusion may be quite strong, and I need you to hold on as long as possible."

"I trust you, Charles," she said immediately, then her eyes flew open. "I mean—Professor," she corrected herself.

He smiled. "You may call me Charles, my dear. After all, you're no longer my student."

Jean closed her eyes again and tried to relax. Strangely, the first tentative push of his mind into hers helped her to do that, as she'd always found his presence a comfort. Her tense muscles un-knitted and her head dropped back onto the back of the sofa.

_Very good.._

Her fingers uncurled on her lap as his praise continued to soothe her further. _I thought I was supposed to fight_? Her mental-thoughts were drowsy, serene. Jean thought she might fall asleep.

_You will._

After a few moments, something began to tickle at the back of her mind; it felt the same as when she had a spider or a fly on her skin, an annoying little itch that she wanted to brush away. She didn't want it to be there, it was ruining her sense of peace…

Jean forced herself not to mentally swat him away, reminding herself that it was him, that she trusted him…. As it went on, however, she began to lose her sense of relaxation and peace as he pushed further, harder, into the core of her very being.

The feeling began to grow worse, and Jean began to feel panicked. She wasn't aware of what her body was doing on the sofa, but mentally she was squirming away, trying to push—

_No, Jean, just a bit more, I promise--_

She was making small whimpering sounds, crying out, wanting to scream. It was like he was shoving himself, his very _essence_, deep inside of her mind and no, that wasn't supposed to ever happen, this was _hers_, her power, and he couldn't _touch_ it, no one could, and—

Her power surged, sudden and without warning, drowning her in a sea of red and orange and _pain_ so hot she thought she was burning—

She was screaming when she opened her eyes. She was also levitating in the air a good six feet above the sofa, her arms splayed, staring down in horror at the Professor.

"Please!" Jean cried, unsure what she wanted, watching as objects began to swirl around the room. All she could remember was when this happened before, when she'd gone _haywire_….

_You can stop it, Jean. Do as I say—stop the objects. Use your will._

Jean concentrated hard, returning the books to their shelves and the pens to Charles' desk with her telekinesis. Slowly she began to put the room to rights, and as she used her powers she felt her control returning, felt herself calming down enough to complete the task.

_Good. Very good. Now return to the ground. That's it…_

She lowered her arms and ended up standing in front of him, her legs shaking. She reached out tentatively with her mind, wanting to know that he wasn't angry at her, and what she found made her collapse to her knees in front of him, her face pressed to his knees as she trembled uncontrollably.

_He's afraid of me!_

She felt his hand in her hair, stroking gently as she sobbed.

_It's okay, Jean. Everything will be okay. I promise._

"W-what happened? Is something wrong with me? What—" she raised her tear-stained face to his, crying even harder at the look on his face; desolate, sad, as if he'd lost someone very dear to him.

"Shhh, now," he murmured, his hand still moving gently on her hair. "You are fine, Jean. I've always known you were a powerful mutant, and this was just confirmation. What you are sensing is merely my concern that you learn to control your powers before they fully manifest."

At that, she raised her head again, her wide eyes searching his. "You mean—my powers _haven't_ fully manifested?" Her fingers curled tightly into the material of his pants.

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I won't lie to you. They have not, and they are quite strong. Stronger than you may realize, even now."

"Oh, God," she whispered, moving away from him to huddle with her back to the couch, arms wrapped around her knees.

"Jean, listen to me," he said firmly, and at his tone she forced herself to look at him and to listen to what he was saying. "This is not uncontrollable, do you understand? You'll have to work hard, but you _can_ do it."

"When?" she whispered, biting her lower lip. _When is it going to happen?_

He blinked at her, confused. "When is _what_ going to happen?"

She was too upset to say it aloud. _When will they manifest? My powers? Will it be like before, when Rogue had to stop me? Should you lock me away? Will I kill you all--_

"Jean, stop this right now. It won't be like before, because you and I will work on it until you are able to control it. It may never come to pass that all the power inside of you will manifest; I simply don't know. However, I _do_ know that when it does, you will be prepared. And you will not kill anyone." He held a hand out to her.

Jean stared at it for a moment. "Y-you promise? You promise I won't kill anyone, hurt anyone?"  
Tentatively, she placed her hand in his, allowed him to help her rise.

"I promise," he said firmly, his voice full of conviction. "I would not allow that, Jean, surely you know that."

She began to relax, just a little, at his certainty. "Yes. I know." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, sitting back on the couch again. She felt weak, drained, and she moved so she was lying on her side with her arm curled underneath the pillow.

"Would you like to have a nap? I have some work to do, and I believe Scott is running today's simulation, so you should be free until dinner." He had moved closer to where she lay on the couch, and he reached out to gently smooth her hair away from her flushed forehead.

Jean felt her eyes slide close under the caress. _Do you mind if I nap here, while you're working?_

_Of course I don't, my dear. Rest well. I shall wake you before dinner._

Jean smiled, warmth surrounding her like a blanket, feeling safe and protected. _That's all I really want, you know. To be safe_.

_I know._

She felt herself growing more and more relaxed as she lay there, the quiet of the room soothing her frazzled nerves. Everything would be all right. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

_No, I won't let anyone hurt you. Not even yourself._

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Miss Information: Hee! Yes, please write more! I read Inappropriate Conduct again today. I want you to write that sequel! And thank you, I am glad you enjoyed the M/R. And no "rocking my world" puns, EVER. My Kitty would get up and leave him there, all uncomfortable and apologetic. Ha. And I do think that interaction with Wanda and Rogue would be hilarious...I laughed out loud at work when I read your review. Hee!

RG Marie: Thank you! I am glad to hear you like the pairings, as they are quite unusual! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Munchlette Belle: Thank you! I love those two, I really do. I figure I need one happy, functional couple in this story. Thanks for reading!

mylovetheswamprat: Why thank you! I'm so pleased you are enjoying the story! Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Nercia Genesis: Thanks! And there is more Magneto and Rogue in the next chapter, promise. Thanks for the review!


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: **In this chapter, we have Magneto brooding over what happened with Rogue, and then Rogue has a surprising admission that leads to further naughtiness. Strong D/S sexual overtones, please be advised. Thanks, as always, for reading!

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**Chapter 12**

He had no idea what had possessed him, none at all.

The more Magneto thought about that strange incident with Rogue in his bedroom, the more he was convinced he needed to get out of Xavier's house, fast. In fact, he'd barely slept the night it had happened, half-expecting Charles to come barging in and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing before throwing him out.

Or worse.

The other half of him had been unable to get it out of his mind, how she had felt straddling his waist, how she'd writhed against him and—

_Stop it. You have more control over yourself than this._

That was, in essence, the problem of the thing. He _had_ felt in control with her, and wonderfully so. It had been a heady feeling—he'd felt like himself again, full of power and purpose. No longer something useless and impotent, like some _human_…

It was understandable from that angle, but the question of _why her_ still remained foremost in his thoughts. He'd honestly been annoyed with her when she'd showed up—he had the same amount of disdain for her as she apparently did for him—and he'd shoved her back against the wall in a fury because she'd mocked him, treated him like he wasn't a threat—

Even now, it made his blood boil. That slip of a girl, to think she could take _him_ down with some ridiculous self-defense move? To ignore the deadly gift that she'd been given in favor of some asinine, showy _leg sweep_? He wasn't against learning physical fighting tactics, but that she would use _those_ first…it merely corroborated all of the unkind things he thought about Xavier's teaching methods.

He wasn't even sure how he went from wanting to warp his metal helmet and wrap it around her neck to wanting to shove her down on his bed and take her, hard and fast, until she was panting beneath him and clawing at his back. Even now, the thought of it made him stifle a groan of frustration.

This was ridiculous. She wasn't his usual choice for a bed partner—not that he'd had one for a while, ever since his alliance with Mystique had turned sour—and every time she opened her mouth he wanted to forcibly shut it again. Not to mention how appallingly _young_ she was. Why, she was the same age as his _children_, for the love of God.

If he was in dire need of sex, he'd go find it somewhere else. The girl—Rogue—could not provide him with what he needed. It was obviously a moment borne of anger and frustration, and perhaps they could merely chalk it up to that and move beyond it. If he thought about it on occasion, about how her lithe body felt pressed to his, about how her face had looked flushed with anger and then passion, her soft voice saying _Yes, yes_ in response to his command…well, he was a man. Who could blame him? Sex with her was out of the question, anyway—it could very likely _kill_ him.

_Maybe that's why you want her. Maybe you want to triumph over something deadly, after your spectacular failure with Apocalypse._

Annoyingly, that made perfect sense. He'd thought he would be beyond such petty assurances, but apparently that wasn't the case.

He'd had no idea what to expect the next time he saw her again. He'd expected her to be angry, and he was honestly surprised she'd not told Charles about what had happened. Despite the fact she'd been willing enough, Charles would still see it as taking advantage of his student because of their rather vast age difference. If she wanted him to be forced to leave, she was missing her golden opportunity by staying silent.

This was, strangely, exactly what she was doing.

He'd seen her the next morning in the kitchen, fixing herself a bowl of cereal. She'd made no effort to speak to him, but he'd felt her eyes on him as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. When he'd turned back, she'd been watching him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted.

He'd nearly shoved her against the kitchen wall. Did she have _any_ idea what that intoxicating combination of fear and _want_ did to him? He wasn't sure what the look on his _own_ features was, other than that it made her suck in a breath and storm out of the kitchen, forgetting her cereal in her haste to escape him. He'd carried it out into the dining room and set before her without a word.

Then she'd surprised him by saying, albeit reluctantly and with a bit of a bite, "Thank you."

For a moment he'd been almost speechless until he'd recovered his composure. "You're welcome," he said slowly, watching the way her gloved fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her spoon.

Charles had smiled at the head of the table, his pleasure in their apparent well-mannered interaction palpable.

_If only you knew, old friend._

Wait…why _didn't_ he know? Or did he?

_Unless he is keeping his word and staying out of my thoughts?_

_To which I am repaying him by lusting after--_

Magneto had been unwilling to continue that train of thought. He'd spent a moment regarding the rest of them: Mystique's son, as like to her as glass was to steel, the girl who could walk through walls with the annoyingly chipper laugh. She was, if he recalled, a year younger than Rogue, though the thought of touching her as he had Rogue made him feel slightly ill.

No, it wasn't her youth that made him want her. It must be the control she'd given him and the knowledge of how dangerous she was…

He'd left the table abruptly, and he'd felt her eyes on him as he'd left.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

It was nearly one in the morning on a Wednesday when he saw her again.

He'd been unable to sleep and had gone outside, walking next to the pool and staring down into the darkened water, rippling slightly in the wind. If there was a moon it was hidden by the clouds; it was very dark outside.

"You goin' for a swim?"

Surprised, he saw her there, a slight figure on one of the lounge chairs lining the side of the pool. She was sitting with her chin atop her knees and her arms curled around herself.

"A bit too cold to swim now, is it not?" He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at her. The wind tossed her hair, the white streaks writhing like snakes above her head. _Like Medusa_. Somehow, he didn't think she'd appreciate the comparison.

She shrugged. "Guess so. Ain't much for swimmin' during the day, though. I burn too easy. I always liked it better at night. Less people around that I might put into a coma when I'm in a swimsuit." She wasn't looking at him, but it was the closest thing to a normal conversation the two of them had ever had.

"If people don't understand how dangerous your skin is, that is hardly your fault. They should know to give you your space." He felt strange talking to her in something other than his usual defense-laden tone.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes people are dumb."

Magneto could hardly argue with that sentiment. "A bit more often than _sometimes_, I'd say."

She actually laughed, then looked a bit guilty, as if she shouldn't laugh at anything he said. "Guess you're right." She stared up at him; he couldn't see her eyes in the darkness, they were as fathomless as the pool. "I—I have to ask you a question."

"Yes?" He moved closer, finding a dark thrill in the way he was towering above her.

She apparently didn't mind; he didn't miss the way her lips were slightly parted, breath coming faster, as she looked up at him. "Why?"

He could pretend to misunderstand her, but he didn't. "I'm not…entirely sure, Rogue." He paused. "Is that your name?"

She smiled a little. "My given name? No." She didn't offer further, so he didn't press her for an answer. No one ever called him by _his_ given name except Charles, and he could hardly take her task for being called _Rogue_ considering _his_ name. "Magneto ain't yours, either," she responded pertly.

"Of course it isn't. That would have been rather coincidental, don't you think?" He was strangely gratified when her lips quirked up in response.

This seemed a strange cessation to the hostilities between them. He wasn't sure why they weren't fighting yet, actually.

Except for the slight tinges of awareness he could feel growing between them, which spoke of tension of another sort.

She swallowed. "You…were you tryin' to hurt me?"

He blinked, startled. "Absolutely not," he said, somewhat offended. "I am many things, Rogue, and no doubt quite a few of those things are unsavory. However, I am not a rapist."

She nodded slowly. "I didn't think so." Slowly, her body uncoiled from her tight defensive pose and she took a deep breath. "You probably want to know why I ain't told anybody."

"I figured that you were—" he stopped himself from finishing the sentence. "I admit I am curious," he said instead.

"What were you gonna say? Please, I—I have to tell you something after this, and it ain't easy, so I need—" she shook her head, biting her lower lip.

"I thought perhaps you were merely ashamed," he said slowly, unsure if that would anger her.

"I was, but not why you'd think." She stood up gracefully, arms wrapped around herself. "Look, I don't like you. You even sorta scare me, if you want the truth."

He tried not to smile at that; her somewhat grudging admission amused him. The clouds shifted, the moon peeking through just enough to allow him to see the troubled expression on her face as she looked up at him.

"I don't know how much you know about me, Magneto, or why I'm here," she said carefully. The wind picked up again, carrying the scent of towards him. It was clean and fresh, and brought stronger memories of her in his arms.

His hands were clenched at his sides. There was something about her vulnerability in that moment that made him feel dangerous; some dark part of him wanted to exploit it, and it was an unsettling realization to think how badly he wanted to _control_ her…

"I can't ever relax, do you know that?" Her voice sounded strangled, as if the words had been torn from her very soul. "All day long, I'm tense. I have to make sure no one gets near me. I have to make sure Kurt doesn't think I'm gonna go gunnin' for Mommy Dearest. I gotta train and learn harder than everyone else, because my powers ain't long-range and I could get hurt, and I'm so _angry_ all the time. Not to mention," she continued, her voice rising, "All these people I got in my head. Do you know what it's like?"

She didn't let him answer, beginning to prowl restlessly around the perimeter of the pool as she kept speaking. "I see my roommate, who's all happy with her boyfriend and doin' normal stuff that people my age do, and I can't seem to find the effort to want to bother. Not that it would matter, anyway, since everybody is too afraid to ask me out, 'cept of course that stupid Cajun henchman of yours that just thought he could use me."

Rogue's breathing was very fast now, and her hands were fisted tightly at her sides. "I'm so sick and tired of people usin' me, or tryin' to hurt me. I can't stand it." The clouds shifted again and he saw something that looked like tears on her face. She wiped at them angrily with her gloved hands. "Can't stand it, can't stand having to wrap myself in all these stupid _clothes_…"

Her hands tore at the gloves and she yanked them off, throwing them on the ground at her feet.

"I know what it is like to feel powerless," he said very quietly. It was very strange that he no longer saw her as one of Charles' students, or an object of his very focused lust, or anything other than a fellow mutant.

"Yeah. Well, then maybe you could explain something to me, then." She raised her head and fixed him with an intense stare. "Why is the only thing that has made me feel good in the last six months you shovin' me against a counter, or against a wall? Why would bein' powerless be the one thing that makes me feel better?"

"The same reason it's the only time _I've_ felt anything much of all," he said honestly, surprised at his admission. They were standing a ways away from each other, but the air between them was growing very heavy.

"For God's sake, will you tell me what it is? 'Cause I hate it. It ain't fair, and I don't want it, but it's all I _think about_." She actually stomped her foot at that. "I think about it at night, when I should be asleep, in class, when I should be payin' attention, and in training."

His face flushed as that admission brought forth a barrage of rather erotic images, ones that he really didn't need clouding the already complicated situation. "You want someone to take the control away."

"But _why_? And why _you_? I don't even _like_ you."

"How should I know?" he snapped, annoyed. "Perhaps you are sick and tired of being careful? You realize you are a mutant, _homo superior_, and you're sick of being treated like a doll that might shatter at any moment?"

"I _feel_ like I might shatter at any moment," she whispered. "I can't calm down. The only time my mind wasn't whirlin' at a thousand miles an hour was when we—" she faltered; he could almost _hear_ the blush in her voice. The tell-tale sign of her innocence was doing bad things to his mental stability. "And afterwards, it was like my mind was _clear_. For once."

"What is it you wanted to ask me?" He could hear huskiness in his voice and wondered if she knew what it meant.

"Did you like it?" She stepped closer to him, arms akimbo, facing him with a defiant glare and her chin tilted up.

It would be rather pointless to lie. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You are sure you want to hear this? You likely will not like the answer," he warned her, his hands fighting the urge to grab her and haul her against him. _Do you want to see how much I liked it, girl?_

"Yeah. I'm sure I won't. Just tell me."

"As I said before, I am not entirely certain. You are far too young for me. You are pleasant to look at it but you dress very strangely. You set my teeth on edge during the majority of our interactions."

"Uh, could you maybe stop with the insults? You ain't no prize, either," she muttered.

He glared down at her. "I admit there is the intrigue of your powers, of your being so very deadly." Unable to help himself, his hand came up and skirted lightly over the pale skin of her exposed collarbone. She gasped a little at the caress and he smiled. "And to be quite honest, having control over that—and you—was intoxicating."

"That's demented," she said, but her eyes were wide and her voice was suddenly very breathy.

"I told you that you wouldn't like it," he agreed, and his hands wrapped around her waist. His breathing turned harsh, and slowly, he began to tug her towards him. "Tell me what you want from me. There is something, is there not?"

She nodded, her hands creeping up to rest on his shoulders. The knowledge that they were bare, so close to his face, made nearly dizzy with want.

"I do. I want you to make my mind clear again. I want you to—control me." She was blushing hotly, but she didn't stop. "Make it—make it like it was before. You want to, don't you? To—to do it again?" At that, she looked a bit uncertain, worried perhaps that she'd misjudged his interest.

In lieu of a spoken answer, he yanked her fully against him, holding her hips tight to his. Her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Indeed. Now, Rogue, there are rules to these sorts of things," he said, walking backwards towards the chair with her still held against him.

"There—there are?" Her fingers were curled into his shirt, and she offered no resistance as he sat back down on the chair, legs stretched out in front of him with her slight weight straddling his lap. The urge to move her against him was overwhelming, but he'd be damned if they started this without any sort of understanding between them.

"Yes. You want me to be in control, then you must let me. I expect obedience. _Complete_ obedience."

She looked at him. "This is the only place you're ever gonna get it from me, you know that, don't you? You try it anywhere else and forget it."

"I'm aware of that, yes." His eyes narrowed. "You understand what I mean by this? You do not tell me no, you do what I say? Even if you don't think you'll like it?"

She was squirming against him. "Y-yes," she answered breathily, and he hid a triumphant smile as he halted her movements with a rough grasp. "As long as it works…"

His hand slid up to her hair; he made sure to slide it slowly up her back, liking the way she whimpered at the contact. His hand wrapped around the thick mass of her hair and he pulled, hard, forcing her head backwards. "You will submit to me."

"I will," she moaned, and he could feel her entire body shaking in his arms.

Her capitulation was heady and sweet, like honey. "Then I will do what you want." Slowly he began moving her against his erection, clenching his teeth against the drenching pleasure of it. "And you will do as I say."

"Yes," she gasped, her head still back, gaze focusing skyward. Her fingers twisted in his shirt and he concentrated on moving her slowly, back and forth, fighting the almost irresistible urge to push her harder and move her faster against him.

He released her hair and drew one hand over her breast; she made a mewling sound that further inflamed him, pushing herself against his hand. He roughly pinched her nipple beneath her shirt and she gave another little shriek, trying to move herself faster on his lap, seeking friction.

He smiled darkly and tightened his grip on her waist, keeping her from doing so. "No," he said firmly. "Not yet. I want to hear you tell me what you did, Rogue, when you thought about the last time we did this."

She lowered her head so she could look at him. The moon was full-bright now, allowing him to see her expression. He almost wished it would go away again; the sight of her flushed skin and lust-bright eyes, the pupils nearly fully dilated, was making it hard for him to think.

"I…" she braced her hands on his chest and bit her lip; perhaps he was pushing her a bit too far. Still, if she was serious about her vow to submit to him, she would answer. "I touched myself. In the shower," she murmured, and then he thought maybe she _shouldn't_ have answered because he nearly came just from hearing her say that.

"Did you? Did you come, remembering how it felt? Do you want to come now for me?"

She nodded, squirming against him, and she sounded almost like she was sobbing. "Yes…please, please," she gasped, her legs tightening briefly, and that almost made him see stars.

"You'll have to show me," he murmured. "Another time, perhaps." Reaching down, he unfastened his trousers and held her off him for a moment, freeing his erection and pushing up her skirt before he settled her back against him.

He hissed as he felt the wet slide of her panties against his flesh, and Rogue appeared nearly senseless at the sensation of his cock against the silk. She was bucking herself hard and fast, and he let her, his head thrown back against the chair as she rode him. If she didn't come soon, he was afraid he'd lose his _mind_ and shove her panties to the side, deadly skin be damned…

"Good, good girl," he muttered, hardly aware of what he was saying. Obviously, that was the right thing, however, because she arched her back and came for him with a soft cry. His fingers tightened painfully on her waist as he bucked his hips and came hard against her, the sharp pleasure of it making him groan loudly.

She collapsed against him, warm and trembling faintly, and he loosely wrapped an arm around her waist so she didn't fall. After a few moments necessity dictated that he move before somehow their skin came into contact, so he shifted her away and re-adjusted himself.

They ended up sitting side by side on the chair, staring at each other as they both struggled to control their breathing. His heart felt like he'd run a mile in a minute flat.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, though he could tell very well that she did. Her eyes were drowsy, her face calm. None of that nervous tension or restless anger remained.

She nodded. "Yes," she said softly, and he smiled. He reached a hand out and lightly touched the white streak in her hair. It was curious, but he found that one of her most attractive features.

"Good. You may go, if you wish."

She nodded again and rose, tugging her skirt down and collecting her gloves. She didn't look back at him, but he watched her as she walked back towards the house.

This was probably very stupid, to start this with her. They lived in a house with two telepaths. She didn't even really like him, and he found himself possessed with a strong urge to wipe all that makeup off her face and teach her how to speak in proper English.

The moon hid beneath a cloud again, shrouding him once more in shadows.

_Which is where I belong._

Magneto smiled in the dark.

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MyLovetheSwampRat: Thanks! Glad you are enjoying the story, and nice to see another Magneto&Rogue fan out there!

Nercia Genesis: Haha, yes, it was supposed to be creepy, so I'm glad that you said you found it disturbing! Thanks so much for reading and for the comment!

Nettlez: Ah, well, you see--I am a fan of inappropriate relationships, obviously. Ha! So I am glad you enjoyed the chapter and that you thought it worked! Hope you enjoy the new part!

Miss Information: Oh! No sequel? Well, if not, please do write me a nice one-shot with Magneto and Rogue having "I haven't seen you for a month" sex on the asteroid and I'll be happy. Wow, that's definitely the strangest sentence I've written today. Hee! And I shall eagerly look forward to reading whatever you come up with. Thanks and glad you enjoyed the chapter--I confess to liking Jean, though I'm an Emma Frost fan at heart--which reminds me, do you read Ultimate, where Charles had the relationship with Emma when she was his student? He dumped Mystique for her, then named his cat Mystique? That makes me laugh. Anyway, thank you, and hope you enjoy this new bit. Thanks as always for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: **Alas, I've had to drop the planned PietroXWanda on this one. Wanda is just determined to be normal, and so who am I to deny her? Anyway, thank you all for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy! FYI, I have named Rogue "Anna-Marie Adler" for purposes of this fic, as "Anna-Marie" is her most common first name in the comics (and as a tribute to Miss Information's fic, "Inappropriate Conduct", which I just love) and Adler is Destiny's (Irene) last name, and Destiny raised Rogue.

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**Chapter 13**

"Ms. Adler, I do hope whatever it is you are staring at out of the window is relevant to our discussion of _The Lottery_?"

Wanda shot an anxious look at her friend as Rogue turned around, flushing at their English teacher's rebuke. "Ah…no ma'am," she mumbled, slinking lower in her seat, picking her book up hastily.

"Try and pay attention," the teacher said a bit stiffly, and Rogue nodded, covering her face with the white sweep of her hair.

Wanda heard Jacob Morrow, who sat behind her, muttering beneath his breath. "She'd get detention if you all weren't afraid just cause she's a _freak_." Ms. Rowe pretended not to hear him, but Wanda knew that Rogue—and likely the rest of the class—_had_ heard.

All of the bolts holding Jacob's desk together suddenly came undone, and the young man crashed to the floor with a loud yelp. Wanda smirked, looking over at Rogue, who gave her a small smile and a mouthed _thanks_.

Wanda shrugged. What use was having hex powers if she couldn't use them on occasion? Besides, it was nice to see her friend smile for a change. Rogue had been in a weird mood for the last few weeks.

After class, Wanda waited with her brother as Rogue endured a lecture about her schoolwork from Ms. Rowe, her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed. She looked as uninterested in the lecture as she had in class.

"Looks like Stripes is getting in trouble," Pietro drawled, leaning back against the door. "Think she figures it was Rogue that made that kid's desk self-destruct?"

"That's not Rogue's power," Wanda said irritably, glaring at her brother.

"Like they keep them straight? What, do you think they have a chart in the staff room?" Pietro laughed. "We're all freaks to them, sis, and you know it as well as I do. They hate the fact we're even _here_."

"I'm starting to share that sentiment, Pietro. Go away, would you?" Wanda wanted to find out what was the matter with Rogue, who certainly wouldn't volunteer that information in front of her brother.

"Why, afraid your little friend doesn't like me? Then why was she staring at me?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Not every girl on the planet wants to sleep with you, you know."

Pietro snorted. "Whatever, I don't _want_ to sleep with every girl on the planet. Only the cute mutant ones." He removed himself from the wall and shouldered his backpack. "She _was_ staring at me, sis, but you don't have to take my word for it." Pietro examined Rogue's approaching form critically. "If she'd loose the skunk hair, she might be cute."

"Pietro, I am seriously—" she growled in annoyance, though of course he took off before she could finish.

"Somethin' the matter?" Rogue looked at her curiously.

"Just my brother being an ass. Today he thinks you were staring at _him_."

Rogue blushed; Wanda gave her friend a wide-eyed stare as they walked down the hallway. "Uh…_were_ you?"

"Well…no. I mean, for a _minute_," Rogue said hastily. She shook her head, obviously flustered. "It's just…he looks a lot like your father."

"Yeah, he hears that a lot," Wanda muttered as they reached their lockers. Her eyes narrowed as they approached; someone had scrawled _Scarlet Bitch_ on hers with a red marker.

"Oh, how _clever_," Wanda said loudly, struggling to keep her powers from flaring. "Like no one's ever thought of _that_ before."

Rogue leaned against the lockers as Wanda yanked hers open, shoving books inside furiously. "Aw, now, Wan. Prolly just Jacob tryin' to be clever after ya' made him take a tumble in front of the entire senior English class." She giggled. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Yeah, well, what are friends for?" Wanda slammed her locker shut, ignoring the crudely written phrase, and took off down the hall. "Wanna get out of here? I stole Lance's keys. If we're back by the end of the day, he'll never know."

Rogue shrugged. "Why not? I didn't do any homework so I'll just get another lecture 'bout my sad lack of academic standards anyway."

The two girls walked side by side down the hallway, towards the doors leading to the parking lot. "You think anyone's gonna see us?" Rogue asked, peeking nervously around the corners.

Wanda grinned. "Nope. Scarlet _Bitch_ and her hex powers, remember? Every now and then, things work out in my favor." She pushed the door open triumphantly, gesturing for Rogue to precede her out of the building.

Rogue laughed at that. "Nice. God, I'm glad to get to get out of here," she said, throwing her bag in the back of the jeep and climbing in as Wanda slid into the driver's seat.

Wanda looked over at Rogue as they waited at a stoplight on their way to the mall. "So…_are_ you interested in my brother?" It wasn't that Wanda thought Rogue wasn't good enough for her brother—it was probably the other way around—but the thought of it made her feel sort of weird.

Rogue wouldn't look at her. "Um…no, Wan. I mean, he's cute and all, but not…not really my type."

"Oh. Okay. Cause if you were…it wouldn't really be that big of a deal." Wanda grimaced. "Better you than like, Tabitha. Ugh."

Rogue snickered. "Tabby's not so much into boys," she said with a grin. "Don't think you gotta worry about that."

Wanda grinned. "Oh, right. I forgot about that. So if you're not hiding a deep love for my stupid brother, what's got you all mopey? I mean, you don't gotta play the disaffected Goth for my benefit. I shop at Hot Topic, too," Wanda said seriously, and Rogue gave a small laugh.

"It's…can we just not talk about it?" Rogue stared down at her gloved hands; Wanda was surprised to see they were shaking.

"Sure. But Rogue, you'd—you'd tell me if something was wrong, right? Like, if someone was hurting you or something? I mean, I know I'm kind of unpredictable, but I—I'd hope you'd tell me." Wanda looked over at her quickly, uncomfortable with such conversations but determined that Rogue knew she wasn't going to fly off the handle and do anything rash. At least, not on purpose.

Rogue looked over, appearing surprised. "Oh. Oh! Of course I would. You'd be the first person I'd tell, Wan. Promise. It's nothin' I can't handle."

Wanda nodded, parking the Jeep and switching off the ignition. "I know. It's just that…I know how I am. You're like, the only person who isn't afraid of me. Not that that's the reason we're friends," she said quickly.

"No, but it'd be a good reason to like someone, wouldn't it?" Rogue had a far-away look in her grayish-green eyes. "If they wanted to be around you even though you were dangerous?"

Wanda thought about that. "Maybe it is. But it doesn't matter. I like you for other reasons."

"Cause I skip class with you and go to Hot Topic?" Rogue grinned, looking a little more relaxed as they headed towards the mall's entrance.

Wanda laughed. "Yeah. Something like that, anyway." As they entered the mall, Wanda saw the elevators and the fountain and winced visibly.

Rogue grinned at her. "C'mon," she said, hooking Wanda's arm in her own. "We'll go the long way."

"Appreciate that," Wanda said with a laugh, her feeling of unease abating as they moved away from the site of her earlier destructive episode. Maybe things were really going to be okay, after all.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Lance had given her a speculative look when they'd all met up to ride home after school—"I could have sworn I parked two spaces over—" but didn't say anything else as he drove them back home. Wanda settled back in her seat, shivering a little; the autumn air was beginning to turn cool, and it was starting to get dark earlier as well.

"What should we do for dinner?" Fred rumbled from the back, making her roll her eyes. It was only three forty-five, how could he be thinking about dinner already?

"Don't care what you do. I'm going out with Kitty," Lance said, slamming the breaks to avoid running a red light. Wanda winced as Fred's bulk was thrown forward against the back of her seat.

"Hey, where's Todd?" she asked suddenly, horrified. Had they left him at school? Again? They'd done that once and he'd whined about it for _days_.

"Detention. He stole someone's lunch again." Lance sighed. "Idiot. You'd think he learn by now to be a bit more sneaky."

"Maybe he likes detention," Pietro said from the back, sounding unconcerned.

"He'd only like it if Wanda was there," Lance said slyly, winking at her. She scowled at him, but there really wasn't anything to say, because he was probably right.

"Shut up," Pietro muttered from the back, causing her to grit her teeth in annoyance.

Wanda turned around and glared at him. "You know, I can handle myself, Pietro."

Her brother smiled at her, and it their father's smile, sharp and unkind. His pale eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Like you did with the kid that marked up your locker?"

"Who marked up your locker?" Fred asked ominously. "I can beat them up."

Wanda ignored that. "What'd you do?" she asked, her voice low. "Pietro, you don't even _know_ who it was. Do you want us to get kicked out of school again?"

"Nothing," her brother said innocently, his eyes wide. "And I do so. It was that Morrow kid. The one you made fall out of his desk."

"Don't suppose you could have used all that energy doing whatever you did to him to, oh, clean the marker off my locker?" She rolled her eyes, discomforted by what he'd said. "So what'd you do?"

"Just wait and see," Pietro said smugly, laughing. Wanda felt a stirring of unease at that, but she turned around and stared straight ahead as they drove home. She wasn't responsible for the stupid things her brother did. He had a temper, but that wasn't what worried her, because really—hers was worse. Still, he had this irritating habit that if he felt he was right in doing something he usually did it, consequences be damned.

_Just like father._

Wanda spent the evening trying to do her assignments, but she gave up when her math homework began resembling a foreign language and went downstairs to the kitchen. She peered in the fridge, a frown creasing her brow, worried at the lack of nutritional sustenance to be found therein.

"Yeah, see why Toad got detention? We've got shit for groceries," Lance muttered, walking into the kitchen. "This is why I'm going out for dinner."

"How are you going to pay for it?" Wanda looked anxiously at him. "Lance, we have to do something. That bank account Mystique set up is running out of money, fast. What do we do when it's gone?"

Lance stared at her as if she were crazy. "Isn't there, like, a lot of money in there?"

Annoyed, Wanda crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "No, that's what I just said. There's not. My father sends us some money, but it's not enough for all of us to live here—do you know how much the bills cost?"

"We pay bills?" He looked momentarily bewildered.

Wanda closed her eyes and counted to ten, slowly. "Yes," she said carefully, wondering why everyone here was so _clueless_. "Hello, who do you think pays the utility bills? Mystique did it, but she's gone, so I started doing it because someone had to."

"You have a checkbook?" His eyes brightened. "Can I borrow it?"

"Are you _listening_ to me?" Wanda asked, incredulous. Honestly, what did Kitty Pryde _see_ in him? "We're nearly _broke_, Lance. We need to get jobs or something."

"Just ask your dad for more money. I bet he feels guilty enough—" Lance stopped cold, his dark eyes wide, appearing suddenly nervous.

The light fixture above the sink flickered on and off. "What?"

"'Cause, um…you know. Of him running off." Lance began backing up, his hands up. "Chill, Wanda. I'm just…you know me. Look, we'll do that. Jobs. We'll get jobs. After school and stuff."

She watched him curiously. "You know, Lance, I'm not going to make the house collapse just because you mentioned my father ran off to fight Apocalypse."

"Oh, I know. It's just…you know. Didn't want to, um…upset you." Lance still looked a bit worried, glancing around as if he were waiting for someone to suddenly appear.

Wanda waved away his concern with one hand, not liking the fact everyone thought she was a ticking time bomb. Especially not when it seemed to her like she was the only one with any sort of common sense around this place. "Maybe Fred's parents can send some money."

Lance shrugged. "I guess. Still think you should work the guilt card with Daddy dearest."

"Where do you think my father is getting money from, Lance?" Wanda rolled her eyes. "The Mutant Supervillain Pension Fund?"

"Ha, ha," Lance drawled, leaning against the counter. "Isn't Xavier paying him to teach?"

"Not enough to support the five of us and this stupid _house_," Wanda snapped. "Do you know what our water bill was last month? Do you?"

Pietro walked into the kitchen, his eyes narrowed as he looked between the two of them. "Something the matter?"

"Yeah. We're kinda broke, or something." Lance shrugged and grabbed his jacket. "Scarlet'll be happy to tell you all about it in excruciating detail. I'm outta here. Guess I'll have to distract Kitty at the last minute and drag her out of the restaurant before we get the bill."

"Classy," Wanda muttered, shaking her head. The floor of the house shook, and she became genuinely angry. "Stop _doing_ that, Lance! We can't afford _food_, much less someone to fix the house from your—" she stopped as she heard the door slam, making a small sound of anger and smacking her palm on the counter.

_Sometimes I hate living with boys._

"Sis, calm down. We'll just ask dad to send us some more money." Pietro hopped up on the counter, his white hair falling into his face. "It isn't like he doesn't owe us."

"That's not the point." She opened the fridge again, but her options hadn't magically changed and there was still only a block of cheese and half a carton of milk left. Luckily, the milk hadn't expired yet and the mold on the cheese could probably be cut off.

Wanda pulled out a pan, found some elbow pasta in the cabinet, and went about making macaroni and cheese. She had no idea how to make it if it wasn't Kraft and from a box, but she was hungry and this was all they had. She'd figure it out.

Pietro didn't help her, merely watched her fix the pasta with a guarded expression. "What did Lance say to you?"

She looked up, surprised. "Uh…that father owed us some guilt money for what he did and we should exploit it so that Lance could take Kitty out to dinner," she said, rolling her eyes. "That was basically the gist of it."

"Because father did what?"

Wanda emptied the box of pasta into the boiling water. "Um…remember that scary, evil mutant who had the pyramids? The one we all fought? The one our father left to fight without saying a word?"

"No need to be a bitch, sis, just wondering." Pietro left his perch on the counter and stood next to her, his head bowed, his hands in his pockets.

"Pietro, are you going to help me or just be annoying?" She looked up at him, then sucked in a breath at the predatory look on his face. Why was he looking at her like that?

"You know, we could leave here. Just you and me. If you wanted." His voice was very quiet; soft, coaxing, in a way she'd never heard him use with her before. She was so used to her brother being a whiny little bitch, that this was—different. Strange.

"Um…where would we go? Besides, this—this is _home_, Pietro, as near to one as we have, anyway. You want to go run off and live with father at Xavier's?" She swallowed nervously. "You don't…I mean, you don't want that, do you?"

Pietro was staring down at her with a glittering look in his pale eyes that made her suddenly…_uncomfortable_. "Um…is something the matter?" Wanda spoke very clearly, wanting him to back up and stop invading her space.

He shook his head, as if he'd been far away, stepping away from her and running a hand through his hair. "Nothing. The pasta—it's about to boil over." With that, he turned on his heel and left her alone in the kitchen.

The macaroni and cheese ended up a disaster; sticky, too thick, and the cheese wouldn't melt. The pasta was overcooked and she added too much milk. Wanda called and ordered a pizza, and Pietro gave her a twenty dollar bill to pay for it. She didn't ask him where he'd gotten it. She was too tired to care.

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Miss Information: Hee, yes, I think it's in Magnetic North storyline where Charles mentions to Wolverine his cat is named Mystique since he dumped her for Emma. HA! Glad you liked the chapter, and that you thought it worked well! I love the idea of the two of them just forgetting everything in their desperation to be together, all the while thinking it's just about sex. Well, it is, for now...mwahahah. And mmm, do write that one-shot! Looking forward to your new project, as well! Thanks, as always, for reading!

Munchlette Belle: Thank you! I'm glad you like the 'ship and the fun dominance and submission aspects. It's certainly a blast to write! Thanks for your review!

IvyZoe: Hee, thanks! I admit to liking Rogue and Remy in the comics, but not so much in Evolution. Of course, this could be my MagnetoXRogue OTP thing, who knows, haha! As for all our various characters and their reactions, stay tuned! Thanks so much and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

Nercia Genesis: Yes, Jean and Charles are being Very Good Telepaths (TM) and keeping themselves out of Magneto's mind. At least, Jean is. As for Charles...who knows...mwahaha! And as for Wolverine, he definitely has a few suspicions, but all that is fun for a later day. Thanks for the review!


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: **In this chapter, Lance tries to be an adult. It works well with Pietro, but he reverts back to form when he's dealing with Kitty. Ah, Lance.

Thanks for reading!

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**Chapter 14**

Lance knocked on Pietro's door, unsure if his housemate was even at home. It was late on a Saturday night, he'd just taken Kitty home (and then taken a cold shower, which was starting to become a regular occurrence after their dates) and for all he knew, Pietro was out somewhere. Running a hand through his wet hair, he wondered idly if Pietro ever brought girls home. He really hoped he didn't have one in there _now_, because they really needed to talk.

"Who is it?"

"Me, Lance," he called back.

"Oh. What do you want?"

"Um, can I come in? People are asleep and I don't want to shout." He could almost _hear_ Pietro's annoyed sigh through the door. It opened several seconds later to reveal him there, dressed in pajama pants and a Bayville High sweatshirt. Pietro waved him in and went to sit on his bed, opening the window to smoke.

Lance took a seat in the chair next to Pietro's desk, ignoring the piles of clothing. His room was only neat because of Kitty. "You know, your room is going to smell like an ashtray if you keep doing that."

"I have to have some sort of vice, Lance, come on," Pietro drawled, inhaling his cigarette and regarding Lance's wet hair with amusement. "Little Kitty-cat get you all worked up?"

"Shut the hell up," he muttered, reaching his hand out. "Give me one of those."

Pietro tossed him the pack of cigarettes and Lance took one, finding a lighter on Pietro's desk. It took him a few moments to light the cigarette—he was still a novice at this. He didn't really like it, but he figured the camaraderie of smoking might help the case for what he was about to propose.

"So what is it?" Pietro cocked his head at him, his eyes sharp. He looked unfriendly. Lance wondered if they'd ever have spoken to each other, if it weren't for the fact they were both mutants.

"We're about to run out of money," Lance said bluntly.

Pietro took another drag of his cigarette. "You sound like Wanda," he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Yeah, well, because she's right, dude." Lance raised the cigarette to his lips, but he didn't really inhale it very much. "We need to get jobs."

"Who does?" Pietro asked, staring at him. "Me?"

"All of us."

Pietro snorted. "Right. I'll just go work at Pac Sun at the mall," he muttered, shaking his head. "Come _on_, Lance. Jobs are for humans."

"Yeah? You sound like your dad," Lance snapped, annoyed.

Pietro smiled at that. "He's right, you know. We _are_ better than them."

"Maybe we are, but I don't think the bill company cares. They just want money." Lance stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk with quick, jabbing movements.

Pietro stubbed out his own cigarette and flicked the butt out of the window. "Yeah, fine. I'll ask him for more money, then. Is that what this is about?"

"Dude, look. You live here, not with daddy. If you want to get money out of him, fine. But I don't think it's gonna be enough."

"Maybe not for _you_--"

"Let's play, what happens to us if we run out of money?" Lance interrupted, highly irritated. "You end up at Xavier's with your sister and _two telepaths_, not to mention a bunch of people who don't know your dad zapped your sister's memories away." At Pietro's scowl, he held his hand up. "The rest of us either make nice with the X-Men—that is, provided they'd even _have_ us—or it's foster care until we graduate." He laughed mirthlessly. "I know you don't want to live at the Institute, and I sure as fuck don't want to end up back in foster care."

"So we have to find a way to get money."

Lance didn't care for the gleam in Pietro's pale eyes. "Yeah…dude, don't tell me you're going to rob a bank? No one ever gets away with that, you know."

"DB Cooper did," Pietro muttered.

"Who?"

"Never mind. Let's just…before we all drop off applications at the mall—though I'd die laughing to see my sister working at that pretzel place—just let me…just let me think about something for a little while." Pietro's voice was coaxing.

Lance sighed. "Dude, we don't _have_ a little while—"

"Lance! You need to use your imagination," Pietro exclaimed, jumping up. His eyes were bright. "Two weeks. Give me two weeks! It would take that long to fill out job applications anyway, right?"

"I guess," Lance said slowly, weakening. He didn't want to get a job, really, either—when would he see Kitty?—but he knew from experience that Pietro wasn't the best at thinking through a plan.

_Another way he's like his dad._ Lance wisely kept that observation to himself.

Sensing his capitulation, Pietro grinned. "There you go. Just let me put a few things together…we shouldn't have to go to school and work while those kids at Xavier's lay by the pool all the time, don't you think that's unfair?"

Lance _did_ think it was unfair, but he shrugged. "Life isn't fair, is it?"

"Well, no, but we don't have to sit around and take it, do we?" Pietro was prowling around his room, which made Lance want to leave. He was tired, and dealing with his roommate was exhausting even when it _wasn't_ two in the morning.

"Hey, earth to Pietro. We need _money_."

"I know! Lance, listen to me. We can't ask Toad and Blob to get jobs. Just imagine it for a second," Pietro urged him, arms crossed. "Think about Toad working at Subway in the mall. You think he'd last a second?"

"No, because he'd eat all the sandwiches," Lance responded, snorting despite his resolve.

"Exactly! And Blob? The first customer who complained, he'd toss him out a window. Can you imagine my sister working at Target? The minute she got pissed, the store would collapse."

"You're right, which is why it has to be _us_," Lance informed him.

"No, Lance. It means we need to find a way to make all the talents we have work _for_ us. Everyone's talents, not just the fact you or I could work some shit job at the mall for minimum-freaking wage—you think we could live on that? Have you even done the math, Alvers? It's impossible."

Lance hated it when Pietro said something intelligent. "At least it's _something_--"

"Yeah, something that isn't _good enough_." Pietro's eyes snapped. "I'm sick of things not being good enough. We'll have to find a better way. We _will_ find a better way. No matter what it takes."

Lance stood up, backing towards the door. All Pietro needed in that moment was a helmet. "Okay. Come up with something, and we'll talk about it—don't do anything dumb, okay? We can't afford to bail you out of jail."

Lance turned on his heel and left, shaking his head. He had no idea what scheme Pietro was going to come up with, but it would probably be dangerous. He'd probably go along with it, too.

Damn it.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

"Lance, is something the matter?"

He looked over at Kitty, who was lying next to him. They were at the park, enjoying one of the last nice days they'd likely have before winter came. Lance really could have cared less about that, but it had been Kitty's idea, so he'd gone along with it.

Plus, it was free. That was also a selling point.

He almost told her what the problem was, but he didn't. It wasn't just him—it was his entire house. The last thing he wanted was Kitty telling her goody-goody friends about their predicament. They'd organize a Brotherhood food drive or something, and then Pietro would go postal.

"No," he said, forcing himself to smile at her. It wasn't hard, really; she looked very pretty lying there next to him. "Why?"

"You just seem kind of…I don't know. Tense?" She rested a hand on his shoulder, and he _did_ tense, but only because she touched him.

_That's called, "I can't keep my hands off you" tense._ "Yeah, well. You know. School and stuff. Plus, I live with crazy people."

"Yeah, well, so do I," Kitty murmured, her face creased in a frown. "You're not the only one with crazy roommates."

"Yours are driving you crazy, too?" He reached up and brushed her hair back, liking the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingers and the way she smiled in obvious pleasure at his caress.

"They all drive me crazy sometimes. Family, you know." She leaned back on her elbows, her bright blue eyes sparkling. "Rogue's not a bad roommate, but she's all weird lately."

"Maybe that's cause she's hanging out with Scarlet," Lance said, grinning as he leaned over her. "You know, doing whatever weird Goth kids do."

"You know, I had this theory that Rogue had a crush on one of your housemates," Kitty said, reaching up to brush his hair back, mimicking his earlier caress.

Lance stared at her. "Which one? Wanda?" He sounded briefly interested. "Really? Tell me all about _that_," he teased, grinning as she turned pink and hit his shoulder.

"_No_, not Wanda! I don't think Rogue swings that way. I meant Pietro."

Lance blinked at that. "That'd be dumb. He's not exactly a one-woman kind of guy," he said, his eyes drifting down to how nicely her sweater fit around her breasts.

She giggled. "Your roommate stories are always way dirtier than mine."

He looked back at her and grinned. "Yeah? You mean you and Rogue don't have pillow fights in lingerie?"

"Lance!" she shrieked, but she was giggling. "Late night cable television is lying to you."

"Oh? How do you know about late night cable television?" he asked, grinning wider as she blushed harder. He rolled over and pinned her beneath him. "Out with it, Pryde. Are you watching Cinemax late at night?"

"Lance," she gasped again, laughing harder, her hands resting on his shoulders. "You are _horrible_." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And how do you know so much about late-night cable television _anyway_, to know what _channel_ to watch?"

"Hey, don't get mad at _me_. You're the one that brought it up." He kissed her because she looked so adorable and flustered, and she happily kissed him back, her hands on his shoulders tightening a little as he deepened the kiss.

They broke away eventually, not wanting to make out in a public place where anyone could wander by. They'd have to save that for later.

"I really don't think Rogue is dating Pietro. I don't think Pietro _dates_ girls." He winced. "He doesn't even bring any of them home." He was lying on his back sideways, with his head resting on her stomach. It was very comfortable.

"Then how do you know he has any?" Kitty asked, playing with his hair. "Maybe he's just all talk."

Lance snorted. "Trust me, I know. You don't want to hear the details, believe me. But Pietro will hit on anything that _moves_, so if your roommate wants some no-strings-attached sex—"

She hit him on the top of his head. "Ugh. Mental image I _don't_ need, and Rogue—well, her skin, you know?"

"I'm glad _you_ don't have that problem," Lance said, grinning up at her.

She grinned back. "Me, too."

Lance settled back and relaxed under the slight brush of her fingers in his hair. "So, um…what are you going to do this summer?"

"Lance, it's _October_," Kitty said, tugging at his hair.

"I know, but do you go home or something?"

"I didn't last summer," she said, scratching his scalp briefly with her nails.

"Yeah, that'd be because of the mutant we had to take down," he reminded her, eyes sliding closed.

"I'll stay here. Probably get a job at the mall or something. Why?"

For some reason, that made him feel better. At least if whatever harebrained scheme Pietro came up with didn't work, they'd both be working somewhere for the summer. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. "Me too. I mean, with the working."

"Yeah, I mean, I gotta start saving up for college." Her voice became hesitant. "Are you—are you going to college?"

Lance tensed a little at that. "I—I don't know. I guess I just wanted to finish this year first and worry about it later."

"Deadlines and stuff are coming up, though," she said slowly. "If you want, I could—"

He sat up, suddenly wary of the direction the conversation was taking. He didn't want her to suddenly start thinking he wasn't good enough for her. "We should go. It's getting late."

"Lance—" she stood up as well, then sighed, brushing imaginary leaves off her back. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

He shrugged it off and pulled her towards him. "You didn't." He hugged her, momentarily distracted by the press of her body against his.

Though as they drove back into town, he found himself lost in thought, wondering what would happen. It would be okay next year, with her still at Bayville and him—doing whatever it was he was doing—but what about after that?

Would she still want to date him when she was in college, if he was working at the Bayville _mall_?

Probably not.

She'd meet some stupid _smart_ boy, and that would be the end of it. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

_Maybe Pietro's right. Maybe we shouldn't have jobs. I'll just have to find a way to get money, or do something impressive. So I can keep her._

_--------------------------------------------------_

Tamara: Why thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying the story and I hope you continue to enjoy it :) Thanks so much for reading!

Miss Information: Hee! Thanks! I love playing with the Brotherhood House dynamics, because it just cracks me up that they live there with no adult supervision. How are they paying bills? Who's making dinner? How does Wanda even know HOW to cook? So I'm happy there's someone besides me who likes that kind of thing. Hee! And yes, Wanda and Rogue will have some interesting conversations in the future...thanks, as always, and also for the nice comments you've left me on the one-shots. I really appreciate it, thank you so much! And yeah, re-read Magnetic North. I love the whole idea that Xavier--that pimp daddy!--named is cat after Mystique, after dumping her for Emma. Ha! That's priceless, really.

Jdehn: Haha! I'm so glad there are other Magneto and Rogue fans out there. I figured I'd horrify everyone in Evo!fandom with it, so I'm glad a few people like it! I also hope you do enjoy the Charles and Jean, whenever the two of them actually get around to being inappropriate. Mwahaha! Thanks again and thanks for reading!

Nercia Genesis: Thanks! Wolverine isn't home at the moment, but he'll be back...

IvyZoe: You know, I was planning to put Pietor and Wanda together (because it's just so obvious!) but Wanda is determined to be normal, alas. Still, yes, I think Pietro has a bit of inappropriate sort of crush on her. Wanda's hot, who can blame Pietro? And will Pietro hit on Rogue in front of Magneto? We shall have to see...

RG Marie: Thank you! Glad you're still enjoying it, and thanks so much for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: **Oh, _Pietro. _I shake my head at him, but what can you do? In this Chapter, Pietro takes his sister out on a little trip to the horse park. You see, he's about to test his theory that having a hex witch for a sister may just be a bit more profitable than anyone suspected.

Thanks for reading!

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**Chapter 15**

"Pietro, what are we _doing_ here?"

Pietro took a deep breath and looked over at Wanda, his eyes deceptively wide. "Just thought you might want to do something fun, you know. Get out of the house." He waved his hand negligently. "Be outside."

She quirked a brow at him in a manner that reminded him scarily of their father. "Oh, really? The _race track_?" She looked around dubiously at the mostly-empty section they were seated in, obviously confused. There were very few people in the stands; mostly old people and a few shifty looking individuals drinking beer out of plastic cups.

Pietro smiled innocently. "Sure. Come on. You like horses, don't you?" Did she? Was that one of the things their father had Mastermind implant in her head, a love of horses? He couldn't keep it straight anymore.

"Not really," Wanda said, shrugging, but she looked around curiously. "This is a weird sort of idea for brother-sister-bonding, Pietro," she said, concerned. "Or do you just want to hang out here because they'll serve you beer?"

"Kind of, but that's not the point." He threw her an easy smile and winked. "Just…you know. Didn't think we'd run in to anyone annoying here." He picked up the schedule of races, his eyes scanning the horses. He found what he wanted and hid a smile. If the clock was correct, he had a good ten minutes before the next race started.

Plenty of time.

"You want a pretzel or something? I'm going to go get a drink. A pop," he said, holding his hands up at her look. "No beer. Promise."

"Just a Diet Coke. And maybe a pretzel," she said begrudgingly, a small smile on her face. He grinned at her and dashed off, making his way to the interior where they sold the snacks.

More importantly, it was also where they took the bets.

He sauntered up to the window, money in hand, and pushed it over to the bored-looking man behind the counter. "Fifty bucks on _Chase the Money_ to win," Pietro said confidently.

"Son, those are 30-to-one odds," a man behind him said. "You sure you wanna waste fifty bucks?"

Pietro grinned. "I'm feeling lucky." He took his ticket and sauntered off to the concession stands, fishing ten dollars out of his pocket to buy snacks. He really hoped this worked; that was all the money he had left.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

He handed Wanda her pretzel and Diet Coke, then sat beside her and waited for the race to start. Pietro took a deep breath, his eyes on the gates. He had to time this just right, or else it wouldn't work.

"Oh, look! Here they come." Wanda leaned forward in her seat, watching as the horses paraded by with their jockeys on top, bedecked in brightly colored uniforms. "What happens next?"

"They run," Pietro said, leaning back in his chair, watching Wanda carefully. "You have a favorite?"

"Yeah," she said, picking up her copy of the racing schedule. "_Red River_." She grinned. "Red, you know. What about you?"

"Oh. Dunno. Maybe…" he perused the names as if he hadn't looked at them before. "_Valiant_?"

"How noble of you," she said, laughing a little, and part of him was glad to hear her laughing and the other part of him felt a little…

_No. Not guilty. This has to be done…we need the money, and she'd never agree to do it if I told her about it first._

The announcer came on over the PA system, and Pietro turned his attention to his sister. "So…your friend Rogue. Think she'd sleep with me?"

Startled, Wanda turned to him. "What? Um…no." She rolled her eyes and turned back towards the racetrack.

"Really? I mean, she's cute. I bet she'd like it, don't you think? I mean, you'd figure any guy who'd at least _try_…"

"Pietro, would you _shut up_? I'm trying to watch the race. Isn't this why you brought me here?" She scowled at him and he felt air around them shift, just a little. Pietro knew about air and currents, could sense when they were altered even in the slightest, so he knew exactly what that meant.

The tracks swung open and the horses began to run. _Chase the Money_ was already in trouble, in dead last, after they'd barely cleared the gates.

The race would be about two minutes long, which given his sister's temper, was long enough. "Say, sis. Speaking of dating, you gonna go out with anyone, ever?"

"Can you be quiet? I'm trying to watch."

He sucked in a breath, feeling the slight flare of her powers affecting the air between them. "Hey! I got it. You're dating Rogue, aren't you?"

"Pietro, that's ridiculous. She's my friend, not my girlfriend. I'm not Tabby."

Damn it. She sounded more amused than angry.

"Oh. I just figured…Dad thinks maybe you like girls," he said wildly, searching for something. "He…he told me. That, um…if you were, he'd be pissed."

"Father told you he'd be pissed if I was a _lesbian_?" She turned a dark glare on him. "Why? That's asinine."

"Yeah, well. He said that maybe you should stop shopping at Hot Topic and maybe guys would like you. He kinda has a point, sis. You know, you _do_ scare off just about every guy that even _might_ be interested…"

The announcer's voice boomed, sharp and excited. "And…I can't _believe_ it! From the back—who would have thought it--_Chase the Money_ is making a comeback!"

Pietro hid a triumphant smile, looking over at his obviously-furious sister. The air was fairly sparking with power as her anger grew, but the race was almost over…

"So we kinda thought maybe you were sleeping with Stripes. Which is going to break Toad's heart, but that's okay. It's not like you really care about him."

"What? I—Pietro, why are you being such an _ass_?" She was breathing very quickly, her fingers clenched into fists as he continued.

"Well, because. I mean, maybe you need to face up to the truth, sis. Maybe the shaved hair and the weird eye-makeup is just a ploy for attention." He was really reaching now, and he knew it. "Father thinks you're just going through some adolescent rebellious stage."

"Oh, _does_ he?" She stood up, glaring at him, and he could feel her power stirring the fine fair hairs on his arm.

"I don't believe it!" the announcer yelled. "_Chase the Money_ has moved into the lead as the horses come around the turn…" he fell silent as the horses approached the grandstand for the final stretch.

"Yeah. He thinks you do a lot of stuff for attention. Sometimes he calls me and tells me about it, but he tells me not to say anything to you so you don't go all psycho like you did at the mall."

Wanda made a choked sound that was very reminiscent of a sob; Pietro ignored her and watched in glee as his horse beat the 30-to-1 odds to finish first. The payoff board blinked and Pietro sprang to his feet, ignoring Wanda's harsh breathing.

"Wait here a sec," he said, dashing off to reclaim his winnings.

The man behind the counter gave a low whistle. "What were the odds of that happening?" he asked, shaking his head as he counted out Pietro's money.

"Better than you'd think," Pietro said smugly, then pocketed his winnings and made his way back to where his sister sat, furious and shaking, in the seats where he'd left her. "Here," he said, shoving the money at her. "Take it."

"What the hell is this? Did you just rob someone?" She stared at the money and then him with an expression caught between confusion and anger. There was hurt, as well, but Pietro tried not to notice that.

"It's money. For the bills. I bet on the horse that won, fifty bucks. So we won like fifteen hundred. Don't know, didn't count it, but it's enough for bills isn't it?"

Wanda stared at him. "You bet fifty dollars on the longshot? Wasn't that stupid? I mean, if he'd have lost?"

"I wouldn't have lost, sis." He raked a hand through his hair, suddenly very tired.

"How do you know? I mean, the odds of that—" her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. "You did it on purpose. Angered me, so my powers would flare up. So that I'd alter the probability without even realizing it. So you could _fix the race._"

He nodded. "Yeah. Dad didn't say any of that stuff, and I don't think you like girls."

She was staring at him as if she'd never seen him before. "Pietro…I have no idea what to say to you."

"How about, thanks for the pretzel? I could have bet more, but I spent ten bucks on snacks."

Wanda didn't say anything to that, just counted the money and then put it in her purse. "It's enough to pay for bills this month, and maybe go grocery shopping." Her hands appeared to be shaking.

"Yeah. I figured." He looked around, bored. "Let's go. Unless you want to go double or nothing?"

Her glare was all the answer he needed. He knew she was unhappy; he could tell by the set of her shoulders as they walked back to the Jeep. Pietro wisely remained silent as they drove home. Wanda didn't look at him; he had no idea what she was thinking, and figured it was safest not to ask.

He pulled the Jeep into the driveway, hoping Lance was still busy with Kitty and wouldn't notice that he'd taken it. He switched the ignition off, but before he could climb out, his sister's hand wrapped vise-like around his wrist.

"Pietro."

"Yeah?" he looked at her, somewhat apprehensive.

"I…that was really sort of smart," she said at length, as if she'd really rather not. "I hate to say it, but…I'm sort of proud of you for coming up with that plan."

He grinned, pleased. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But if you ever do it again…" her fingers tightened, and the look on her face was fierce. "I'll _kill you_, do you hear me? No one uses me. Not father, not you. Not anyone." Her breathing was shallow, and her face was flushed. "You'll regret it. You _will_."

He believed her. "I know," he said, his voice curiously soft. "I know, sis. I won't."

They stared at each other for a long time, and then she let go of him and went into the house. Pietro stayed outside a few more minutes, trying to figure out what he was feeling. Good, of course, that he'd found a way to find some money, but…

He believed his sister. Which meant that wasn't going to work again, and that he'd have to come up with something else. All this was, of course, was a temporary solution to a much greater problem.

Setting his jaw, Pietro went inside. He had to find a way to keep them financially stable. If he didn't, he knew what would happen. They'd end up living at Xavier's with their father, and _two telepaths_. Eventually, either Xavier or his equally sanctimonious little cult member, Jean Grey, would tell Wanda what Magneto had done.

Pietro absolutely could not let that happen, no matter what. Things could not go back to how they used to be.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Later that night, he found Lance sitting downstairs on the sofa, staring absently at the television. There was some stupid horror movie on Channel 11, something about stupid kids camping and being chased by a knife-wielding maniac.

"Is this one of those movies where everyone who has sex dies?"

"Yeah," Lance muttered, looking bored.

"Trying to convince yourself not to do something, Alvers?" Pietro's voice was sly. He really couldn't help it; Alvers just made it so _easy_ to annoy him.

To his surprise, Lance laughed. "No, dude. It's not the knife-wielding maniacs. It's the babies and the shit job for the rest of my life that keeps me on the straight and narrow." He winced. "Mostly. Sometimes…"

"Dude, there are ways around the babies," Pietro said, shrugging. "You could always sleep with Blob."

Lance threw a pillow at him without evening looking. "Shut up. You wanna watch this?"

"Nah." Pietro leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You talk to my sister?"

Lance looked up at that, his eyes speculative. "Yeah. How'd you come up with all that money so fast?"

"Because I said I would," Pietro said with a smirk. At Lance's continual expression of disbelief, he rolled his eyes. "I took Wanda to the horse track. I bet on a long shot and pissed her off."

"This was your grand scheme?" Lance snorted. "Dude."

"Hey, shut up. It worked! I got us fifteen hundred bucks or something, Wanda said. All I had to do was fix the odds, and hello…hex witch for a sister." Pietro grinned. "Come on, praise my genius, Alvers. You know you want to."

"You can bet I don't," Lance said, but he smiled. "Okay, fine. That _was_ pretty smart, punk ass that you are."

"See? Was that so hard?"

"Sort of, and what are we going to do next month? Scarlett sure as _hell_ ain't gonna go for that one again." Lance's smile was sly. "Though it'd be funny to see what she'd do to you if you tried."

"Ha, ha." Pietro found himself horribly bored with his roommate's sudden display of _responsibility_. "Look, I'll think of something else. I fixed it all up just like I said, didn't I?"

"Well, technically it was _Wanda_--"

Pietro waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. But it was _my idea_." He looked expectantly at Lance, who remained silent. Pietro's eyes narrowed. "It was. You know it was. Why can't you just admit I did what I said I'd do and got us the money?"

The air between them shifted subtly; Pietro could tell Lance was annoyed with him. Why was everyone always so annoyed with him?

"Yes, Mr. Approval-whore, it was your idea. What the hell good is that going to do us next month? You're just going to use someone else's powers next time, is that it?" Lance stood up, clicking off the television.

"Maybe," Pietro snapped, angry. Why did no one give him any _respect_ around here? "At least I'm _doing_ something. Something _besides_ making out with that goody-goody Pryde and taking cold showers."

"Whatever, dude," Lance said, obviously exasperated. He pushed past Pietro and left the room; Pietro thought for a moment to follow him, but in the end, he didn't do it.

Instead, he sat down on the couch and stared at his reflection in the slick glass. It was a school night, and he needed to go to bed, but he had a feeling it was going to be a long time before he could fall asleep.

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Miss Information: Well, Charles is totally pimpish in Ultimate, don't you think? Hee! And I'm reading AoA while in Mexico this summer on my week's tropical beach vacation to write my Ideology sequel, which is an XMMF (though AU after this Friday, of course, as Ideology was written before X3)/AOA crossover, because clearly I am crazy. Anyway, glad you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you like this one! We're getting to a point where things will go a bit wacko, and oh, Pietro is going to have a few things to worry about in the future. Ha! Thanks for reading as always!

Nercia Genesis: Next chapter there's some Rogue and Magneto, promise! It's with the beta so it should be up soon. I do hope you like Pietro being ridiculous in this chapter in the meantime :)


	16. Chapter 16

**AN**: I know it sure seems like every Magneto and Rogue chapter is smutty, but I promise, it's not really. It's just we're saying their relationship--in which they are using each other--begin to change into something else. Hopefully, you'll pick up on that, and if not, maybe you will just enjoy the naughtiness!

I must warn you that there are strong d/s overtones in this chapter, as well as BDSM play. If such examples of power-play between consenting adults offends you, then I suggest you skip this one. Also, I have a deep and abiding love of Rogue calling Magneto "Sir," which is why when I read that in Miss Information's fic "Inappropriate Conduct", I squealed like a little girl.

Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading!

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**Chapter 16**

Rogue took a deep breath, staring at herself in the mirror, wondering what the _hell_ she was doing.

_You're going to him again. Because it's been two weeks and you're snapping at Kitty and you've failed two quizzes. This way you'll be able to concentrate. He's keeping his part of the bargain and you need to calm down. You're using him. This is all this is. This is what you want._

She buckled the skirt she was wearing into place, her hands shaking, as she repeated her inner monologue like a mantra, over and over. Except that lately…she was beginning to wonder if she should end this—whatever it was—between her and Magneto. Not because she didn't like it.

Because she _did_ like it.

Rogue had never thought of herself as having an addictive personality before. She'd smoked exactly once in her entire life, and that had been with Risty. No, _Mystique_. She and Kitty had a few drinks one night at a party, but Rogue hadn't liked the way the alcohol had made her feel enough to want to do it all the time.

Sometimes she wondered if, because she was generally pessimistic and often moody, there was just nothing she _liked_ enough to which she could become addicted. Kurt was the happy one who liked feeling good all the time, not _her_. It had seemed a good enough reason to Rogue, anyway, why she didn't get all excited about illegal substance consumption like some of her classmates.

Then she'd started this thing with Magneto, and…

She didn't think she was addicted to _him_--God, no—but rather she was becoming an addict to that beautiful, blissful feeling of calm that followed their…time together. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the flush on her skin, the bright cast to her eyes, and bit back a groan. She was already overly excited and she was still in her _bathroom_.

It was just that the thought of not having that feeling anymore made her panic grow exponentially, and that was exactly why she kept thinking she needed to end it. Of course, that thought just led to more panic, which in turn made her want to go to him even _more_.

In fact, she would go to him more than she did if it weren't for the danger of getting caught. That was always there, the threat of their resident telepaths picking up a stray thought from either of them, and it would most certainly be _over_ when that happened. The Professor would make Magneto leave, and he'd watch Rogue like a hawk, and then she'd be back to being angry and anxious all the time, and…

_Calm down. Jean's out with Scott and the Professor went to some symphony with Hank. No one's going to know what you're doing, and you'll be right as rain after it's over._

She left the bathroom, walking quickly down the hallway towards his room. Her heart was slamming like a mad thing in her chest, just like it always did. He still scared her, Magneto, and it usually took her a little while to relax when she first got to his room.

She knocked on the door, looking around nervously. The door swung open to admit her in silence. He didn't need to ask who was there.

Magneto was sprawled in the chair directly across from the bed. As usual, it always took her aback to see him dressed in normal clothes. He favored darker colors, which was a striking contrast to his pale hair and light eyes.

_He's a handsome man._

Rogue blinked. She'd never really thought that before. Magneto was just the vehicle by which she attained that sought-after calmness, and it didn't matter what he looked like. At least, that's what she'd always thought, anyway. He really _was_ nice-looking, though, especially now, when he appeared relaxed and slightly less threatening than normal.

He was barefoot, and in her opinion, it was hard to look scary when you weren't wearing shoes.

"Is something the matter?"

She looked up at him, blushing faintly at having been caught in her perusal. "Ah…no. Well, I mean, no more than the usual." She entered the room and closed the door behind her, standing perfectly still in the middle of the room with her hands behind her back, head bowed submissively.

It wasn't something he ever asked her to do. It was just…something about it felt _right_.

"Come here."

She approached him, eager to begin this and let her worries fall away, but she was surprised when instead of telling her to lie on the bed as he usually did, he stood and tipped her chin up. "What's wrong?"

Startled, Rogue stared at him for half a second without speaking. He didn't…why was he asking her this? It wasn't…they never…she wasn't here to _talk_.

"I believe I asked you a question," he said in a low voice, and the implicit command made her knees weak even as she resisted what he wanted her to do. It wasn't _fair_--he wasn't supposed to care what led her to him, he was just supposed to _fix_ it so she didn't think about it anymore.

"I—" she swallowed, her eyes searching his, looking for some hint that this wasn't part of the game. "N-nothing's the matter."

His eyes narrowed, and his hand tightened on her chin. It made her wince. "That would be the wrong answer, girl. Try again."

"I failed two math quizzes," she said, unable to do anything but obey him when he looked at her like that. "And I keep snappin' at Kitty and I hurt Kurt's feelings the other day when I told him that there was no way in hell I was signin' a card for Mystique at Christmas. He acted like he hated her after that business with Apocalypse, and now he's back to bein' all convinced maybe she ain't evil incarnate after all."

He smiled briefly. "Ah. I wondered if it wasn't something to do with your mother—"

"Don't _call_ her that," Rogue snapped, angry. "She ain't a mother. She's just some loony bitch that thinks she's got some right to be in my life 'cause she paid Irene to take care of me." Rogue was faintly trembling with emotion. "I want to know who my birth parents are. That's all I have ever wanted from her and she _won't tell me._ I ain't even sure of my real _name_, did you know that? She left Kurt to _die_ when he was a baby, and she thinks—"

"Stop," he said quietly, firmly, resting his hands at her waist and squeezing lightly. Curiously, it was enough to stop her diatribe from escalating any further, though she was still visibly upset.

"You asked," she muttered. Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you _care_, anyway?"

His mouth tightened. "Oh, that's right. Evil monster that I am, I should just take advantage of you and be quick about it, is that it?"

Rogue tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. "Yeah. That's right. This ain't about you carin' what's wrong with me, it's about—"

He hauled her against him, his breathing rapid. She could feel him hard against her, and it gave her pause. She never _could_ figure out what he saw in her, unless it was as he'd said; he liked the control she gave him.

_Then why isn't he taking it?_

"Do you wish to give me orders, girl? Go on, then." He smiled coldly at her. "I dare you."

"What in the name of hell is the matter with you?" She demanded, glaring at him. "If you ain't in the mood for company, Magneto—"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he snapped, and while this was usually what she liked, right now it felt…_wrong_.

"Actually, yeah, you did," she said, holding herself very still. She forced herself to expel a breath, to try and gain control. "Look—"

"No. I'm—I'm sorry." He pushed her away a little, although she really didn't notice because she was so _shocked_ that he'd just…_apologized_. "You do not have to tell me what is bothering you. It is none of my business."

Rogue sat on the bed, watching him carefully, feeling as if something had shifted between them. "It's all right," she said slowly. "I don't mind tellin' you, I guess." As admissions went, it wasn't the most graceful, but it was nonetheless the truth.

"Oh? It did not appear that way to me," he said dryly, hands in his pockets as he looked down at her.

She looked away a trifle guiltily. "It just surprised me that you cared."

"I see. Nevertheless, you _did_ promise me obedience, and you've been a very bad girl. I should send you away."

Despite the threat in his voice, she knew he wasn't serious. She could almost _feel_ things returning to normal between them, that slight aberration fading away as if it had never happened. "Please, don't," she whispered, keeping her head bowed.

"Then you promise you will be a good girl and not argue with me?" He reached out and took her shirt off, tossing it to the floor so that she was dressed only in her bra from the waist-up. He pushed her rather firmly towards the bed, on which she kneeled with her head bowed.

"Yes…yes, sir," she answered, a bit shy about using the form of address. He'd never asked her to, not once, but she…sort of wanted to. She'd been doing some online reading after Kitty had gone to sleep—mostly to assure herself she wasn't the only one out there who liked someone to do the things Magneto did to her—and the thought of calling him that had been very arousing.

He sucked in a breath, his gloved hands resting lightly on her back. "That's not necessary," he said quietly, but she knew that he liked it. She didn't need his mind in hers to know _that_.

"I know," she murmured, a little too embarrassed to look up, and grateful that he didn't demand it of her. "If you don't like it—"

"Shhh," he murmured, his hands going to her shoulders. The cool leather felt good against her heated skin. "I didn't say that I didn't," he said quietly. To her surprise, he began kneading her shoulders with firm, expert hands.

This wasn't at all his usual pattern of behavior. Suddenly, she was worried that he didn't want her, that maybe he was trying to push her away because he decided _he_ didn't want to do it anymore—

"Relax, Rogue," he commanded, his hands tightening. It hurt, this massage of his, but it felt good, too.

Too worried about the scenario her mind had conjured up to do as he'd asked, she twisted around and looked at him nervously. "Don't you—"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did I ask you to speak or tell you to look at me?"

"No, sir," she gasped, and excitement curled low in her belly as she stared at him almost defiantly.

"I thought you promised to be my good girl. This is not what I would call _good_. This is what I would call _disobedient_."

She kept her head up, wanting him to… "You'll have to make me, sir," she said, almost astounded at her own daring.

She saw his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he smiled, slowly, a gleam in his eyes she both feared and found intriguing. Without warning, he slapped her on her back, hard, with the open palm of his gloved hand.

Rogue cried out, but she didn't look away from him, her gaze remaining challengingly locked with his.

"Is this not hard enough for you, girl?" He did it again, the stinging slap of leather-on-skin a torment and a delight in a way she'd never felt before.

"No, sir," she whispered, trembling.

He leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear. "I know what you want," he murmured, his breath warm. "Disobedience will not allow you to have it." To her surprise, he pressed a very light, gentle kiss on the nape of her neck. "Lie on your stomach for me and relax. There is a time and a place for challenging my authority. Now is not it."

Slowly, Rogue complied, easing herself back into the position he wanted.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, and she sighed, finding a pleasure in those words that she derived from few other things. She went unresisting to her stomach, fingers curling lightly into the blanket covering his bed as he flipped her skirt up and exposed her ass.

The sound she made when she felt his hand come down wasn't a cry. It was a sigh of surrender, blissful and soft. She let herself relax fully, let the pain drive away the fear and the anxiety, and submitted just like he wanted.

Just like _she_ wanted.

ooooooooOOOOooooooo

When she came back to herself, she became aware of the air on her exposed skin; it was cool and it made her shiver a little. She blinked owlishly, pushing herself up cautiously, waiting to see if he'd tell her not to. He didn't, though, so she sat up fully, wincing at the pleasurable sting against her reddened skin.

Surely later she'd feel embarrassed about how much she'd really liked that, but not now. Now all she felt was a drowsy contentment, just like she did after their more sexual encounters. Her body thrummed with lingering desire, but it was the ache of it was gratifying, almost, just like the bruises he'd probably left with his hand.

Rogue saw him sitting in the chair again, watching her, his eyes burning. His face was flushed, and he was breathing very quickly, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair tightly. His hands were no longer gloved; she could see his knuckles were white under the strain. She found him suddenly, dangerously attractive, and her mouth was dry as she thought about climbing in his lap and touching him.

She knew that he expected her to leave, since he'd done what she'd wanted and delivered her into that beautiful state of tranquility. Rogue stood up on shaking legs and moved closer to where he sat.

"You may go, Rogue," he said, but his voice was missing that terseness that usually accompanied his commands, imbued instead with a husky undertone that made her knees weak.

"Sir," she whispered, standing before him naked from the waist up, liking the way his eyes drifted to her breasts almost hungrily. "I—do you want me to leave?"

His eyes traveled up her body, slowly, and it felt like he was touching her. Her desire grew stronger and she pressed her legs together, biting her lip as he met her gaze, his own eyes heavy-lidded with lust. "No," he said hoarsely, reaching out for her.

She allowed him to pull her on his lap, and she carefully kept herself from touching his exposed skin as she curled up there. Slowly, she traced one gloved hand down his chest, her heart racing at being so forward and touching him. He didn't stop her, but she could feel how tense his body was beneath hers.

They were both breathing very loudly as she undid the buttons of his trousers with shaking, satin-covered fingers. When she wrapped her hand around his erection, he hissed and his hips arched upwards. His hand wrapped around her own, his fingers bruising-tight. Rogue looked at him, pausing, waiting for some sign that she should continue or stop.

Slowly, he began to move her hand, showing her what to do. It was very erotic, sitting in his lap half-undressed and stroking him with her gloved hand, and she could not take her eyes off his face, fascinated by her effect on him as he moaned loudly at her touch.

He was thrusting into her hand with increasing urgency. One of his hands slid between her legs, and pressed against her cloth-covered mound. Rogue whimpered at that, keeping her legs splayed apart since his hand was bare. This would not be a welcome time for an accident.

"God," he moaned, throwing his head back, his eyes closed. His fingers stilled for a moment between her legs as he shuddered, his cock swelling in her grasp.

She tried to smile, but she was trembling too hard to do so. "I'm…being…good, sir," she gasped out, thrilled at calling him _sir_ while seated on his lap and fisting his cock.

He opened his eyes, fixing her with a heated, lustful stare. His fingers rubbed her hard, and then before she could tell him not to, slid beneath her panties to press gently on her swollen flesh. Rogue arched her back and came with a sharp cry, her hand tightening reflexively around him, the unknown sensation of someone's fingers pressed bare between her legs undoing her utterly.

Seconds later she felt him come, warm and sticky on her hand, his breath escaping in a low moan. She buried her face against his chest, gasping for breath, so totally and completely under his thrall that she could think of nothing else but him.

Eventually, he shifted her off of his lap and moved her to the bed, where she lay in delicious capitulation and utter satisfaction. Presently she pulled her gloves off and tossed them on the floor, knowing they were ruined but unable to care. She needed to get dressed. She needed to go back to her room. She couldn't move.

He surprised her by returning to the bed wearing gloves. He sat next to her, and without a word, began messaging her shoulders again. This time, she didn't fight him at all. In fact, she smiled delightedly and closed her eyes. "Mmm."

"That's a good girl, now," he said huskily, and she felt warm and drowsy and safe. In fact, she felt herself sliding into sleep as he touched her, even though it wasn't really the smartest of ideas.

Something had changed between them, and some part of her knew it. They had a very specific relationship; she came to him upset, he touched her until she came so that she would calm down. Their intimacy was never wholly about _sex_--at least, it hadn't been until tonight. She'd wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch her, even _after_ he'd managed to put her in the headspace she so wanted.

What that meant, she wasn't sure. It probably wasn't anything good.

She fell asleep without finding it within herself to care very much. His hands were warm and firm, and his voice was soothing as murmured, "Good girl, good…" until she heard nothing else.

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Lady Leeli: Thank you! I am glad you are enjoying the story. I would love to suggest both Willowaus and Miss Information as wonderful writers of Magneto/Rogue that can be found here on We also have a community on Livejournal, which is called Demented Allure (with an underscore between Demented and Allure), if you're interested in reading more!

Miss Information: Yeah, Pietro really does seek approval, which he always appears to be doing to me in comicverse as well. And I'm glad you liked Pietro's rather unorthodox way of making money--I must admit that idea was my husband's, who's a brilliant enabler of my writing evo!fic (even though he really wants me to write a fic where Rogue and Wanda make out. Hee! Men.), and I'm so thankful he came up with it! I hail from the Bluegrass State (Kentucky since you're an Aussie) and we like to play the ponies, so it was great fun to write. I don't think that our fics will be similar--mine involves a convoluted (ha) plan in which the Brotherhood and Xmen take down Apocalypse, and the only AoA thing really in the story is Blink for identification purposes (someone has to know Ehn Sabah Nur is nutso.) Anyway, I'll happily read whatever you come up with! Yay! And I love your Evo!verse stuff. Also, I hope you like this chapter! I read the reviews to your awesome fic IC the other day and snorted really loud at the girl who called submissives doormats. Ah, some people just don't get it. :) Thanks for reading, as always! And do drop by Demented Allure on LJ sometime (there's an underscore between Demented and Allure--weird formatting on won't let me put it in there), we'd love to have ya!

Nercia Genesis: Yeah, Pietro could do with thinking things through a bit more carefully, couldn't he? Hee! I do hope you're enjoying this chapter, as it's--what is it again? Mogue? Rogneto? I can't remember. Anyway, enjoy, and thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: **Thanks everyone for reading! In this chapter, Kitty and Rogue discuss Lance, and Logan becomes a bit over-protective of the half-pint.

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**Chapter 17**

Kitty looked over at Rogue as her roommate was putting away her laundry. "Hey…Rogue?" Her voice was cautious. Rogue had not been in a good mood the last few weeks; she'd practically bitten Kitty's head off more than once, and Kitty knew if she was still in a bad mood that Rogue would _not_ appreciate the question she was about to ask.

"Yeah?" She looked up expectantly. It always gave Kitty a pause to see Rogue without all that make-up she always wore. It made her roommate look more like an adult. Kitty actually preferred her that way, but it wasn't something she'd share with Rogue unless the other girl asked. 

"Um…are you seeing someone?"

Was it her imagination, or did Rogue just blush? "No, why?" She turned back to her laundry, matching gloves up and placing them in the top drawer of her dresser.

"Cause I came home at three in the morning last night and you weren't here," Kitty said bluntly. The truth was, she was worried about her roommate. Rogue's mood swings were becoming worse; she could go from perfectly normal (well, as normal as she ever was) to a raging bitch in a matter of days.

"I fell asleep watchin' a movie downstairs." Rogue wouldn't look at her.

"No you didn't," Kitty said carefully, biting her lip. "I checked."

"I ain't seein' no one, Kit, okay?" Rogue whirled on her, and Kitty was surprised to see how worried she looked. "Just…don't worry about it."

"Rogue, something's up with you. I'm just _worried_. You're not…you've not been yourself lately." Kitty held her breath as Rogue's eyes narrowed, her face unfriendly.

"Look, just 'cause you're out until three am with a boy don't mean I am," she said tightly, averting her eyes.

"I just wanted to ask," Kitty said softly, wishing she'd not said anything. "I worry about you. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. Everyone worries about me. Poor Rogue, a tickin' time bomb. Waitin' for me to go _boom_, ain't you, just like everybody else." Rogue slammed her drawer closed and stood in the middle of the room with her hands clenched. "Well, you ain't got to worry about me for a little while, at least. I'm fine."

Kitty knew when to back off, so she held up her hands. "Okay! I just wanted you to know that if you needed to talk to me or whatever, you could." She lay back on her bed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Thanks," Rogue said, surprising Kitty somewhat by saying so. "Really, Kit, I know that."

"Good."

There was silence between the two of them for a few minutes until Rogue spoke, her voice hesitant. "So, uh…you were with Lance until three in the morning?"

"Yeah. I was." Kitty sighed, sitting up again. "Rogue, I don't know what to do about him."

Rogue sat on her own bed, Indian-style, as she continued with the laundry. She tended to wait until the clothes hamper resembled a mountain before taking care of it. "Why? You wanna break up with him again? He bein' an ass?"

"No, it's not that." Kitty blushed. "Can I…um, share some TMI?"

Rogue smiled briefly. "Sure. What are roommates for?"

"Borrowing clothes?" Kitty asked with a laugh.

"The day you borrow somethin' of mine, Kit, is the day I'll give up black eyeliner," Rogue joked, which made Kitty giggle.

"Really? I might just show up to school one day dressed a la Rogue just to make you experiment with other shades," she responded, and Rogue laughed.

"You would, wouldn't you? Okay, so. Lance ain't bein' a jerk, and you're over there until the early morning hours. What's the problem?" Her face darkened. "He ain't—you know—forcing you to do stuff, is he?"

Kitty groaned and fell back on the bed. "No, of course not. It's just, he won't do _anything_."

Rogue was quiet for a few seconds. "You mean, he won't—touch you?" Her voice sounded strange.

"No, he will. I mean…you know." Kitty concentrated very hard on the glow-in-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling, which she could only barely see in the daytime. "It's just…we always stop."

"And you don't want to?"

Kitty sat up again, looking over at Rogue. "No. I don't. But he won't—" she shook her head, running a hand through her hair, loose around her shoulders. "Why? I mean, doesn't he want to?"

"Kit, he's, what? Eighteen? Of course he wants to." Rogue sighed. "You ever think to ask him?"

"What, say, 'Gee, Lance, I was wondering why you don't want to sleep with me?'" Kitty shook her head. "No. I mean…what if, like, he doesn't want to? I'll be so embarrassed."

"What? Kitty, seriously. Listen. First you hate him, then you're dating. Then you dump him, then you hate each other again. Then Apocalypse nearly turns us all into mutant zombies…and you're dating him again."

"What's with the history lesson?" Kitty asked, annoyed. "I know what we've been through, trust me."

"Yeah, and so does he. And you always break it off. Maybe he's tryin' to not, you know. Pressure you or something." Rogue picked up one of her endless long-sleeved green shirts and began folding it. "Kinda sweet, really."

"No it isn't. It's frustrating. You have any idea how bad it is to want someone to touch you and—" Horrified, Kitty clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh. Rogue, I'm—I'm sorry."

To her surprise, Rogue shrugged. "I do know, so no worries. But it ain't like my attempts at romance ever get that far."

Kitty peered at her curiously. "I thought you were dating Pietro. Or at least wanted to."

Rogue snorted. "No, thanks. He's too much of a punk for me."

"Oh, that's right. You like older men." Kitty giggled, but blinked in surprise as Rogue leveled a fierce glare at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, and Kitty sighed inwardly. Rogue's temper was exhausting.

"Gambit? Remember him? The guy you ran off with—"

"Ran off with? Hello? You mean the guy that _kidnapped_ me," Rogue reminded her, arms crossed, but she didn't look as angry as she had before.

Kitty waved a hand. "Whatever. Besides, I thought _you_ thought it was romantic." She smiled. "Demented, but romantic."

"Yeah, well. I ain't really so interested in guys that want to use me." She stood up, carrying her laundry to the dresser. "Not unless I'm getting something out of it, and there wasn't anything in that deal for me. Next time I see that son of a bitch, I'll tell him where he can stick his cards."

Kitty giggled again, but she didn't doubt what Rogue had said at all. Her roommate wasn't really very…forgiving. "So what do you think is up with Lance?"

"I think he's freaked about you runnin' off again, so he doesn't want to pressure you. Uh, have you told him that you want to—you know? Have sex with him?" Rogue blushed, which Kitty thought was sort of cute.

"No. I mean…I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to stop."

Rogue had a far-away look on her face. "Maybe you should just tell him, straight out. Maybe he just wants to hear you say it before he'll do it."

"Maybe you're right." Kitty bit her lip. "Do you—do you think I should? Sleep with him, I mean?"

"Do you want to?"

Kitty nodded. "I—I think so, yeah. I mean, I have—I went and got the pill last time I was home, so…" she trailed off, a little embarrassed, but she was really glad Rogue didn't mind talking to her about this.

"I think you should. If you want. Life's short, you know. No telling when we might run off into some battle and not come back." Rogue's voice hardened. "Or end up in some camp, since they seem determined to pass that stupid Mutant Registration Act."

"That'll never pass," Kitty said convincingly. "I watched the news with Lance. They said that there were too many special interests groups that would freak out, not to mention it's totally unconstitutional."

"Sometimes that don't matter," Rogue whispered. "Sometimes it happens anyway."

There was something a bit…off…about Rogue in that moment. "Um…you okay?" Kitty asked a bit nervously.

Rogue shook her head as if clearing it. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm gonna go down and check on my last load of laundry." On her way out of the door, Rogue paused. "Maybe you should talk to Jean. Do you think—I mean, surely her and Scott are sleeping together by now, aren't they? They have staff rooms and everything."

"Gosh, Rogue, I don't know. I like Jean and all, but she's kind of private about all that. Besides, I don't think they're doing so well. I heard—well, I don't want to be a gossip, but I heard them fighting the other day. I don't know what it was about, though." Kitty sighed. "I just wanted them to be happy together, you know?" For a moment, Kitty tensed, wondering if Rogue still had any feelings for Scott.

Oh, God. Maybe Rogue was the reason Scott and Jean had been fighting! Maybe—

_Stop it! You're inventing things. Rogue doesn't like Scott anymore._

"Yeah. They're really too boring not to date each other," Rogue said with a small smile, and Kitty laughed, a little relieved.

After Rogue had left, Kitty lay back on her bed and thought about Lance. Last night, she had really wanted to keep going; it was just that it felt so _good_ and yet he'd still stopped, even though she didn't think he really wanted to...

Why was he being so _difficult_? Why couldn't he just act like any other boy his age? Then she could stop worrying about it all time and just get it out of the _way_.

Sighing, she put her hair up into a ponytail and started to fix her make-up. Boys were ridiculous sometimes.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo  
"Hey, half-pint."

Kitty was waiting for Lance to pick her up later that evening, sitting on the front steps and enjoying the cool evening air when Wolverine pulled up on his motorcycle. He turned off the ignition and took his helmet off, leaving the bike parked in the middle of the driveway. 

Kitty had always wanted to ask Wolverine why he wore a helmet if he had a healing factor and an _adamantium skull_, but she'd never gotten up the nerve. "Hey, Mr. Logan. You're back!"

"Yeah." Not a man of many words, Logan leaned against his motorcycle and crossed his arms. "What are you doing out here?"

"Got a date," she answered, smiling.

"Not with Avalanche," he said, shaking his head as she nodded. "You're too good for him, but I bet you already know that."

Kitty giggled despite herself. "Well, duh."

He smiled briefly, and turned as if he were going to climb back on the bike. Lance showed up just as Logan straddled the bike, his Jeep careening into the circle drive with obvious enthusiasm. "Hey, babe," Lance called, then paused as he saw Wolverine.

"Kid, you lay one hand on her and I'll kill ya," Logan said bluntly, and Kitty was torn between horror at what Logan had just said and amusement at the look on Lance's face.

"Um," Lance said, obviously unsure what to say to _that_. "We're just going to the movies."

"Yeah? I know about movies," Logan growled, dismounting his bike and taking a threatening step towards the Jeep. He might not be a tall man, but that didn't mean he wasn't an intimidating one. The metal skeleton and the claws helped. "And about what kids do in movies."

"Logan," Kitty said, shaking her head as she climbed in the Jeep. "We'll be back right afterwards." Which was kind of a lie, but maybe he'd be too busy to notice.

"See to it that you are. You ain't eighteen yet, half-pint." Logan took a step back, his eyes narrowed. "Don't make me mad, boy. Have her back before midnight."

"Uh…okay. Yeah. I will." Lance shot her a look and started the car up again, driving away as Kitty laughed. "Hey, what the hell's with the over-protective guardian act?"

"Oh, Lance, he's just being Logan. You know how he is," Kitty said, still giggling. "He'll be doing something else by midnight anyway."

"Yeah, like what? Polishing his claws?" Lance looked dubious.

"Storm," Kitty said, grinning. It was the worst-kept secret in the mansion, that.

"She's hot, though," Lance said, smirking as Kitty glared at him. "What? She is. But not as hot as you."

Appeased, she settled back into seat. "Hey, we're not really going to go to the movies, are we? Especially not if I have to be back by midnight," she teased him, laying a hand on his leg. She liked the way he tensed immediately and sucked in a breath at her touch.

"'Course not. All the movies out right now suck, anyway." He smiled at her. "We'll just go somewhere else. But I thought you said Wolverine would be…occupied…at midnight, so what's it matter when you get home?"

"Because I was out until three am this morning? And you know what was so weird? Rogue wasn't in our room. I had this crazy thought—" she stopped suddenly, concerned. Maybe she shouldn't be gossiping about her housemates.

"Yeah? About what?" Lance was heading out of town; she wondered where he was going.

"That maybe she was seeing Scott. I mean, she used to like him, and he and Jean have been fighting a lot." She felt a little guilty sharing all of this information, but Lance _was_ her boyfriend.

"Dude, you like to think Rogue's doing something scandalous. First Pietro, now Scott?" He grinned at her again. "I liked the idea of her dating Wanda better."

"You would," Kitty murmured, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. He pretended to be injured and swerved the car, which made her squeak and then yell at him for being careless.

"Oh, but being careless is fun," he told her, a glint in his eyes. Kitty smiled slowly at him, hoping he really meant that.

She was in the mood to be careless. They were alone and the night was full of possibilities. Now, if only he'd take advantage of a few of them, she'd be a happy girl indeed.

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DeadSparrow: Why thank you! Yes, Magneto-Rogue is my OTP, so I write a lot of it, in both Evo-verse and movie-verse. Occasionally even comic-verse, too! I'm really rather obsessed, so I am glad someone enjoys the fruit of said obsessions. I do hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Lady Leeli: Thanks! And oh dear, please don't get in trouble! I would feel very badly about that. Rest assured, there shall be more Rogue-Wanda and Pietro-Wanda shortly! Thanks again for reading!

IvyZoe: Hee, thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying my dementia. Hope you like this scene, though really it's rather tame.

Nercia Genesis: Thanks! Our poor Magneto and Rogue are so clueless, aren't they? Here's hoping they get it together eventually. They're both very stubborn characters!

MyLovetheSwampRat: Thanks! Glad you are enjoying the story, and thanks for your review!

Miss Information: Yes, do check us out! We're a fun community. And wow, yay for a long fic from you to read! I'm not sure how Eschatology will stack up chapter-wise to Ideology, I can never tell. This one has gotten away from me, but I think I can see where it's going eventually, which, haha, is probably a good thing. Yes, my husband loves the X-Men and all the verses, and he's highly amused at my obsession. Plus, he gets to read all my comics. And I am, of course, glad you liked the scene and the "sir". Hee! Thanks as always, and hope you enjoy this moment of Lancitty cuteness.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: **My darling beta, Nevacaruso, told me this chapter was wrong in ways that hasn't been invented yet. It is, too, so please be aware that this chapter features some creepy inappropriateness. Here we have Jean Grey making a difficult decision, and taking comfort from the one person she truly feels understands what it's like to be a telepath.

Thanks for reading, I hope this section doesn't terrify y'all away!

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**Chapter 18**

When she ended things with Scott, she'd expected to be upset. After all, she'd been half in love with him for years, and when they'd finally gotten together…

_I thought it would be forever._

She'd never imagined it would come to this; a tearful confrontation out by the pool, shivering in the cold as she tried to make him understand that it just wasn't working. As friends they had an amazing bond, but it wasn't translating as well as she'd always thought—_hoped_—that it would into a relationship. His concern was stifling where once it had been sweet, and there times when she lay in his arms and wished she were somewhere, _anywhere_, else.

She felt trapped. This was about Scott, yes, but it wasn't just that—it was that _thing_ she felt was stalking her lurking beneath her waking self, waiting to drown her if she didn't keep her guard up and force it back down. It was too much, and she couldn't…she just didn't have the effort to keep fighting so many things all the time. It was exhausting.

This wasn't good, and it wasn't healthy, and despite how much she cared for him she couldn't do it anymore. She loved him too much to wake up one morning and _hate_ him, but if they didn't put some distance between them, she was afraid she'd end up resentful. He didn't understand—she hadn't really thought he would—and while he remained quiet and guarded during their conversation, his inner distress was magnified a thousand-fold by her psychic abilities, since he was too upset to shield his thoughts from her at all.

_Oh, God, Jean I love you, can't live without you, you're everything no please don't do this--_

She'd left him sitting stoically on the lawn chair next to the pool, but she hadn't wanted to, and it's not what _he'd_ wanted, either. It was what he _said_ he wanted, but she knew better. Still, she'd given in and retreated, her heart breaking as she turned her back on him and walked away.

_I can't believe it's come to this._ Exhausted, she'd fled up the lawn and back towards the mansion, trying to keep a rein on her unhappiness until she had a moment alone to give vent to it in private.

_Jean_?

She heard the psychic reverberation in her head and she paused, momentarily confused, before she realized who it was. _Charles?_

_What is the matter? You sound so very upset, I could hear you from here._ His voice in her mind was calm, collected. Everything she really, really needed at the moment.

_Oh, Charles, I had to break up with Scott, I had to, because it wasn't working and I don't want to hate him, I love him so much, but he's so upset and crying and I can't--_ Her hysteria mounted, and she leaned against the marble hall table and tried desperately to slow her frantic breathing.

_Jean! Come to my room, and we'll discuss this, and I'll help you calm down._ Concern edged the smoothness of his mental presence, and Jean felt her panic begin to wane. She headed towards the stairs, climbing them two at a time, nearly running when she entered the hallway that lead to his bedroom.

Charles would calm her down. He always did. She pushed the door open with her telekinesis and ended up on her knees before him her head in his lap, sobbing as if her heart would break.

Presently, she became aware of his hand, stroking gently down her hair as she lay quieted, her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his trousers.

"Oh," she said softly, realizing the cloth beneath her face was wet with her tears. "I'm—I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice choked and hoarse from her crying. "It's just—" she tried to raise her head, a little embarrassed at her behavior.

_Shhh, Jean. Just relax. You're all right, and it's okay to cry._ Charles continued to move his hand down her hair in a lulling, soothing rhythm.

_He wants so much from me._ Quietly she relaxed against him, opening her mind, allowing Charles entrance so that he could understand why she'd ended it.

_Jean…_ His hand caught in her hair, his fingers tightening slightly as he gave the slightest indication of protest to what she was offering. _You don't have to show me this. It's enough to know that you did what you thought was best._

_No, please. I want you to see, want someone to understand. Please….I need this._ Her mental voice was pleading, her breathing becoming frantic again as she felt the push of his mind, but she didn't pull away—mentally _or_ physically—as he tentatively reached out to see what she wanted to show him.

She let it all wash over her; her fear that she could never live up to what Scott wanted of her, that she could never be enough for him. Her deep need for safety after the uncertainty of the last few months, and Scott's desire to find certainty in _her_, and how in the last few weeks she'd chafed under this, feeling like she needed to break free and—

The panic started again, hot and strong, and deep within her mind she felt a flash of something like heat, and saw a spark like fire behind her closed eyelids. "Oh…Oh, God."

_Jean…you must calm down. Let me help you…let me help you._

She nodded frantically, fingers desperately clutching at him, shivering.  
_No. I won't let it take you, Jean. I won't. I promise._

Jean sighed as he pressed onward, pushing back the fear as he went, soothing her troubled mind with each passing moment like a cool breeze in summer.

_Thank you…_ His mind was so powerful, and it hurt, just a little; she squirmed uncomfortably, but shook her head when he asked her if she wanted him to stop. _Please just…just finish._

When his mind was fully connected to hers, Jean floated in a soft cocoon of quiet lassitude, feeling her body become languid and relaxed. She rubbed her face lightly against him, wanting to let him know how very thankful she was for what he was doing with a gesture of undeniable affection. She knew he couldn't feel her gentle caresses, so she sent out the slightest psychic pulse so that he could.

_What are you doing?_ There was a husky sort of tone to his mental-thoughts that she'd never quite heard before.

_You've been so wonderful, Charles, thank you…_ Jean moved closer, sighing a little in bliss. This was so much _nicer_…She kept amplifying her soft caresses, wanting him to see how very good she felt, wanting to give something back in appreciation for his kindness.

His hand tightened in her hair, just briefly, then began to rub her neck. She felt something…not bad, but very _different_ than she'd ever felt from him before begin to intrude upon the peacefulness of their connection. His fingers were warm on the skin of her neck, and as he continued to lightly caress her skin she finally figured out what it was he was feeling—

_Oh._ Her surprise was intense and immediate, that he should think this about _her_…

_I'm—my apologies, Jean. I don't mean…I shall end our connection. This is…most inappropriate._

Oh, but it _wasn't_. Drifting along as she was, wrapped up in him and his beautiful, calm mind, she could think of absolutely no reason why he shouldn't give vent to the impulses she could feel sliding like a current beneath his thoughts.

_No…you're upset, and vulnerable to my suggestions._

Jean smiled at that. _This is what I need, Charles. Please…_ She concentrated her energies around that warm pulse of desire that was slowly creeping into his thoughts, and wound a gentle thread of her own around it.

She heard him inhale sharply, and then very carefully, she felt his hand slide around to smooth over her throat, ghosting lightly over her collarbone. "Jean, this is not…you must stop," he said sternly, but his fingers were drawing back and forth, back and forth, in a way that did not suggest to her that he wanted to stop at all.

She shivered a little under the touch, looking up at him. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, his face flushed. _I must stop this. You are too young, you are my student--_

_No. Not anymore…_ "It's okay, Charles," she whispered, her voice surprisingly firm.

_No. Jean, it isn't…_

But she knew, she _knew_, that he wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that he could do this, with her, even though he felt it was so very wrong…

_He's wanted it before, even though he knew it was wrong. He has thought about you, naked and wanting him, your eyes closed and your body and mind at his mercy--_

"Jean…no, you shouldn't…" His voice was loud in the darkness, strangled and desperate. "You shouldn't be able to see that…"

It was too hard, however, for her to stop. She continued to draw the heated images from his mind, shivering with a dark, tantalizing desire as she did so. She began to slide her mind against his again, gently at first, her hands moving up and down his legs, sharing the sensation of touch with him. "Charles…"

He was trying to make her stop, trying to force her out. Jean pushed harder, wanting suddenly for him to just _admit_ it, that he wanted her, that all those things he'd thought of made him vaguely ashamed, yes, but also very, very aroused. _You don't have to be ashamed, not anymore. You can have it, what you want._

_This cannot happen,_ he protested, but she felt invisible hands begin to slide up and down her back, under her shirt, over her soft satin bra. _Jean, you must control it…_ His voice was as desperate as his touch, his conflicting desires of _stop_ and _more_ washing over her in a torrent.

_No, please,_ she begged, exhilarated, returning the caress with invisible hands of her own, moving in a rush over his body and sending forth bursts of sensation to accompany the caresses. _I don't want to control it, please…_

The world began to tilt as she felt them rise, drifting through the air until they came to rest on top of his bed, her body draped across his. His hands were in her hair, fingertips pressed tight against her scalp.

_You were never supposed to see that, Jean. Never. I have kept that from you since we began our sessions together in the summer._

_But I have seen it, Charles._ She stared down at him through the curtain of her long red hair, happy that he'd not pushed her away, hungry for more of what only he could give her. She used her mental powers to draw a line down his body, wrapping him in sensation, shy tendrils of her own desire growing stronger as the connection strengthened.

He moaned aloud, and the sound thrilled down her spine, causing her to squirm and push harder with her mind and her body both. _You can read my mind, Charles. You know that I want this…you know that I want you._

He drew her mouth down to his almost desperately, his hands moving up and down her back, finally allowing himself to join fully with her on the mental plane, finally allowing her to feel the full strength of his desire. His mouth was warm and insistent, his hand anchoring her to him tightly around the back of her neck.

They lay together on the bed, her body warm on top of his, kissing as the world faded away. She was gasping and writhing under his skillful manipulation of power, lost to the sensations he was creating and sharing with her. His hands, his mouth, his body was everywhere all at once, and in her haste to bring him pleasure she gave the same back, nearly drowning from all the heat and _want_ between them.

It was over very quickly; her body bowed, her head thrown back, a rush of red flashing behind her eyes as the pleasure spiked. She heard his groan as he found his release, and it was a soft spread of warmth in her mind; gentle flares of white heat combining with her own. When it was over she collapsed against his chest, breathing hard, satisfied in a way she'd never dreamed possible.

"Jean," he murmured quietly, tipping her head up to his. She felt the slight tremble in his hands and smiled a little. "Are you…all right?"

She nodded, shifting a bit, not wanting to hurt him.

"You're not," he assured her, tracing her lips with his finger. "I'm sorry. We're just…it's very easy for me to know what you're thinking, right now."

"Oh," she said quietly, a little shy, but not at all displeased by what had happened. It felt so…so _right_. "Are you…are you angry with me?"

_No, but I'm worried about what I've done._

"Don't be," she assured him, resting her head back down. "I'm not upset, Charles. I promise."

"I know you're not," he murmured, rubbing her back. "And I'm glad. But this…Jean, there are many reasons why this is wrong, and you must know that."

"But there are so many reasons why it's _right_," she protested. _I know you wanted me. Why is it bad that this happened, when I wanted you too?_

_Because sometimes we shouldn't have everything we want. Because you are young, and you are upset, and--_

"It's all right," she said firmly, before he could finish. "More than all right…"

_Ah, Jean. Do you not see why this is so very dangerous?_ In his mind, she saw images of them doing this again, and she smiled against his chest.

_Oh, yes. I see. _

He sighed as if in defeat. "You are an adult, and no longer my student, but I must…I don't think we should do this again, as wonderful as I must admit that it was."

She knew, thought, that they _would_. _He will never make me feel trapped, never._ Jean closed her eyes in contentment. This was what she needed. This was what _he_ needed, too. Surely he'd realize it, sooner or later.

His hands tightened briefly on her shoulders, and she moved off of him, but only so that she could lie curled at his side. _You don't want me to leave, do you, Charles?_ She saw them in her mind, doing it again, and she wasn't sure if these were his thoughts or hers, but it didn't really matter.

"Jean, we mustn't…" But he reached for her, with both his hands and his mind, and she settled back against the softness of his bed and reached back.

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Nercia Genesis: I'm a little distracted by your calling Magneto "Maggie". O.o But other than that, thank you! I am glad you liked the chapter, and yes, there is a bit of significance to that moment. And there will be more Magneto-Rogue, I promise! Thanks, as always, for reading!

Lady Leelai: Thanks! I like Wolverine, though he's a lot different in Evo than I'm used to, and I'm sure he'll be properly horrified and likely unsurprised at some things going on… Thanks for reading!

Jeda-Star: Thanks! I love Lance-Kitty, so I'm glad you're enjoying them here in the story! Thanks for reading, and I hope you like this new one.

Miss Information: Ha, I think poor Lance is trying to be too many things at once and is a bit at a loss at the moment. Hopefully he'll figure things out soon! Thanks for reading, and by the way, loved your newest story. I am still eagerly awaiting your posting it on the LJ comm.. Hee! Eschatology is coming along, so yay! I'm glad at least someone will read my cracked-out ensemble adventure story. Now let's see if I can get this puppy finished up sometime this century!

Broken and Betrayed: Why, you have quite a dramatic and angsty username, there! I do hope you're okay:D And thank you, I am happy you are enjoying the story!

RG Marie: Thank you! So happy to hear you are enjoying the story!

Illyria4747: Thanks! It's my OTP, M/R. I have written it in Ultimate-verse, kind of, and shall be writing some _Age of Apocalypse_ fics with the two of them at some point. I would like to write some Savage Land stories, because I love bad guy!Magneto with X-Man!Rogue. Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: **As per your requests, here is some more Magneto and Rogue! In this chapter, they have a talk about their relationship and decide to do something a bit more normal. Shocking, isn't it?

Thanks to all of you for reading! I shall have one more chapter to post this week, then a bit of a lag as I am going on vacation for a week to Mexico, yay! But never fear, I'll return with more insanity for your reading pleasure.

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**Chapter 19**

Magneto lay on his back, his head turned to gaze at Rogue as she lay beside him. Her breathing was slowly evening out, her eyes far-away and glazed. She looked as peaceful as she ever did, which was good considering what he needed to discuss with her.

There was something about their arrangement that wasn't sitting well with him, and hadn't been, for the last several weeks. It had taken him a great deal of time to figure out what it was, and while he'd been happy to perform the service he knew she wanted from him, he wanted something… /i more /i . It was a conclusion he wasn't entirely pleased with, but he rarely denied himself the things he wanted.

"Somethin' the matter?" she asked him, her soft voice drowsy. "You're lookin' at me funny."

"I'm fine." He wondered if this would be the last time they'd be lying together on his bed. He turned on his side and propped himself up, staring critically at her. "I'm just thinking."

"You do that a lot," she said seriously, her eyes searching his. "Brood. You know somethin'? Pietro may look like you, but I think Wanda acts more like you."

Surprised, he was unsure what to say to that. He knew Rogue was friends with his daughter, but that was one of the many subjects that remained an anathema between them. She must have remembered that; her eyes dropped suddenly from his. "I—I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's all right," he said slowly, not entirely displeased at her assessment. "Why do you think that?"

"She's moody like you are, you know. And she's intense, too, has that stare that looks like she's shootin' laser beams out of her eyes." Rogue grinned. "She's got a temper like you do, too."

He knew _that_ well enough. "I wasn't aware you thought I was moody."

She actually laughed. "You remind me a panther stalking around at the zoo, thinking maybe you would like to eat the people lookin' in on you."

He blinked; it was an astute observation, actually, as to how he felt at Xavier's. "Some days I would rather just maul them," he said, and she laughed again. He smiled at her.

"You should smile more," she said, surprising him by reaching up and touching her fingers lightly to his mouth. It was the briefest of touches, and it reminded him oddly of a kiss. She dropped her hand and blushed, as if she were surprised by what she'd done.

"So should you," he said quietly, tracing his gloved hand down her naked chest, in the valley between her breasts.

She shifted a little on the bed and shivered. "You wanna hear somethin' crazy?"

His black gloved fingers on her skin were a striking contrast, like black ink on white paper, and he had to forcibly make himself look her in the eye. "Mmm?"

"I don't hate you anymore," she whispered, biting her lower lip.

"Don't you?" He lifted his hand and traced her lips, pleased.

She shook her head. "No."

"You don't look happy about it," he informed her, fingers twining lightly in her lock of white.

"I ain't, not really," she said bluntly, which made him smile briefly. "You understand, don't you? Why that might be kinda bad?"

His eyes met hers again, and he nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. "I understand." He sat up. "You should get dressed."

She was still accustomed to obeying him in the bedroom, so she stood up and dressed slowly, finding her various articles of clothing tossed carelessly on the floor of his room. He found a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

When he'd cleaned up and deposited his clothes in the hamper—he was doing an awful lot of laundry at odd hours of the night—he went back out into his bedroom to see her sitting on his bed, fully dressed. "Come along."

"Uh…you gonna walk me back to my room?" She looked at him warily. "Don't think that's such a good idea, Magneto, do you?"

"Nothing about this has ever been a good idea," he reminded her, and she stood up and shrugged.

"You're right, but…probably this would be even _less_ of one."

"I'm not taking you to your room. I am taking you out of this mansion somewhere we can talk."

"Uh…what?" She couldn't have looked more surprised as if he'd just told her they should have their next rendezvous on the kitchen table at dinner.

"Rogue, you know we need to talk as much as I do, but you are not…we have rules, remember? You are to obey me in the bedroom? We need to be somewhere neutral. In lieu of obeying me, perhaps you could just listen and follow me without asking so many questions?"

"You're so bossy," she informed him, but threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine! I'll come with you, as long as you're not gonna like, kill me or something."

"Tempting as that may be, my girl, it wasn't on the agenda," he said in a silky voice, opening the door with a wave.

"See? Like I said, moody," she muttered, peeking into the hallway and walking quickly towards the stairway.

Luckily, they passed no one as they made their way towards the garage. He looked critically at the cars. He wasn't about to borrow that death-trap roadster of which young Cyclops was so fond, and motorcycles had never appealed to him, so he opened the doors to the Hummer with a wave.

"Don't you need a key?" she asked him curiously.

He gave an exasperated sigh and wriggled his fingers at her. "No."

"Oh, right. Your powers are a lot more useful than mine. Except that, thanks to Gambit, I know how to hotwire a car." She went around the car and climbed inside on the passenger side. "Just let me know if you need some help."

He didn't dignify that with a response, merely used his powers to start the car, piloting it smoothly out of the garage and into the dark night. She was very quiet next to him, staring out of the window, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

"Are you cold?" he asked her solicitously, using his metal sense to turn on the heat.

"A little," she said quietly. "It's all right."

He drove them a few miles away from the mansion, wondering if this was a good idea after all. While he probably wouldn't ever admit it to anyone but himself, it was an undeniable fact that he could often be a bit…rash. Had he truly thought about what this conversation would mean?

He parked the car up on a hill overlooking the city; the lights sparkled in the distance, glowing softly in the cold night. The moon hung swollen and full in the sky, illuminating the interior of the car with a soft white light.

"If we start hearin' a tap on the roof of the car, be careful," she intoned, and he had a strange feeling he was missing something. "It could be the hook-murderer."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just a joke," she muttered, looking down. "Not a good one, I guess. Uh…why are we here? She turned her face to his, her expression guarded.

"What's your name?"

It was obviously not a question she was expecting to hear, so it took her a moment to answer. "Anna-Marie Adler," she answered, almost as if surprised she'd just told him. "But only the teachers at Bayville ever call me that."

"The others, they know it, though, don't they?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes Kitty calls me that when she thinks she's bein' funny, or she used to. Everyone just got used to callin' me Rogue, and that's just my name now." Her eyes were shrewd. "That's why you brought me up here? To ask me my name? You could have asked me that back in the mansion."

"You would have told me if I'd asked you in my bedroom, because those are our rules. They are not, however, the rules here."

"Why did you want to know?"

Instead of answering her, he leaned over and tipped her chin up, then kissed her. He kept the contact as long as he could, even after her powers started, pulling away before she could do him any serious harm.

She touched her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. Very slowly, she reached out and laid a trembling hand on his shoulder. "You don't hate me anymore, either, do you?"

"I never hated you," he said honestly, holding very still as her tentative touch traveled over his neck.

"I make you kinda irritated, though," she said, her voice shaking a little. "And you still sort of scare me, and make _me_ mad."

"I know." He leaned back against the seat, submitting to her tentative exploration.

Her fingers brushed lightly over his jaw. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

She unbuckled her seat belt. He could hear her breathing, very quick and fast, and his body was tense and poised as if for battle. She rose up on her knees on the seat next to him. "You want to end it, don't you?"

He looked over at her. "I'm taking advantage of you."

"I'm taking advantage of you, too."

He smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "Yes. I know. I don't like to be taken advantage of, you know, and I realized very recently that I'd conveniently forgotten that with you."

Her eyes were speculative. "This is what I do," she said slowly, carefully. "I mean, with my powers. I take things from people and use them. It's the way I am."

"I know. And my power is to control, to manipulate." He laughed softly. "Perhaps this is the explanation of our attraction. You cannot deny there is one, not trembling as you are beside me in the dark. You want to touch me, I know you do."

"You want to touch _me_, too" she said challengingly, and his blood pulsed slow and hot in his veins at both the tone in her voice and her inability to deny what he'd said.

"There are a lot of things I want from you," he murmured.

"Would you just say it already? Tell me you want me to stop coming to your room, and I will," she muttered, her voice tight.

"I want you to stop using me to make yourself feel better about things over which you have no control, Anna-Marie, and I want to stop taking control over _you_ as some sort of substitute for the things over which _I_ have no control."

"So you want to end it," she said angrily.

He reached over and hauled her into his lap, settling her against him. "That's not what I said, is it?"

Her hands rested on his shoulders, and her small body was as tense as his own. "So what _are_ you saying?" she demanded, her eyes narrowed. She was shifting a little in his lap, moving on him, and he had to still her with effort.

"Stop that. And I don't know. I do know, however, that sneaking around like this is only going to cause problems."

"Magneto, are you asking me to go steady?" She stared down at him as if he'd suddenly morphed into Apocalypse. "Cause that might make me faint."

He stared up at her. "Don't be flippant."

"Well, what do you mean, then?"

"Only that our…relationship, as it were, has progressed past our original set limitations. If this scares or bothers you, you are free to never speak to me again, but I am no longer content to be some vehicle for your use. I am also no longer content to have your capitulation to my every whim, because there is no challenge left in that."

"Well, fine, if you don't like it—"

He shook her slightly. "You misunderstand me. I am trying to tell you that I want more from you than what our current restrictive relationship provides."

"Why?"

That, of course, was a good question. "I have absolutely no idea," he said bluntly. "I'm attracted to you, of course, and I have been ever since I backed you up against that wall in my bedroom and we first began…whatever this is. You're attracted to _me_, too, and it's not just because you like submitting to me, is it?"

She stared down and him for a moment before giving a terse nod. "So, what? We try something else that's more normal? Magneto, that's crazy," she said, but there was a strange look on her face. "Isn't it? I mean…we couldn't possibly…could we?"

"Tell me you have no interest, and I'll take us both home and we shall never speak of this again."

"I just don't…how can this have _happened_?" She was obviously bewildered.

He understood the feeling. "You're not answering my question."

She glared and hit him lightly on the shoulder with a gloved hand. "You're so _infuriating._" She sighed. "Fine, I ain't denyin' I'm attracted to you, and that maybe I think about you more than I should, and maybe I want something more, but Magneto…" She blushed. "I don't even know what that would be."

He snorted. "Neither do I. By the way, I would also appreciate it if you'd stop calling me 'Magneto' all the time. I understand the allure of one's mutant name, but there is a time and a place for it."

"I ain't callin' you 'Magnus' like the Professor does," she informed him dryly. She made no move to get off of his lap.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't. My name is Erik." He moved her closer, nuzzling at her neck. She was soft and warm, her body pressed enticingly against his.

"I know that," she said breathlessly, fingers moving up to wind in his hair. "This is so…it's just weird."

"I know," he murmured, moving her back with effort, when all he wanted to do was move her on his lap. "I'm as surprised as you are."

She looked at him consideringly. "This ain't just cause you're in my head, is it? I mean, I find it kinda hard to believe I'd want anything from you without some help."

Oddly offended, he glared at her. "You still annoy me, and I would like to buy you a new wardrobe and a grammar book—"

"You're still an arrogant _ass_, and I think you're sneaky and shady and—"

"You have a narrow-minded, flawed view of right and wrong," he began hotly, and she hit him again on his shoulder, this time not so lightly.

"Yeah? At least I _have_ a sense of right and wrong—"

"Oh, yes, taught to you by a man who refuses to use his powers and help his people from being hated and feared and _locked up_--"

"Strong words from a man who built and lived on an _asteroid_--" She was firmly riled up, now, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"I'm very irritated with you right now, Anna-Marie, do you realize this?"

She nodded jerkily. "Yeah, I do."

He bared his teeth at her in a vicious approximation of a smile. "And yet, I still want you. And you want me, don't you, as much as you're itching to go for your glove?"

"Yes," she hissed, then sighed. "God. This is crazy."

"Yes," he agreed. "It is. But I rarely do things that aren't, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised." He yanked her closer to him with a hand on the back of her neck, kissing her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He nipped at her lip and she moaned and made a sound almost like a growl as she nipped his lower lip in return. His hands were roughly moving over her body, hers frantically pulling at his hair. Her powers were pulling at him, making him dizzy, and eventually he had to push her away before she knocked him unconscious.

"Do you see?" he asked her huskily, his voice roughened with want and the effects of being drained by her powers. "Do you?"

She was nearly hyperventilating as she stared at him. Her fingers were curled tight into his shirt, her entire body shaking on his lap. "Yeah. I do see. I do want this, but I—I'm not really happy about it."

"Me neither." They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing fast, before she spoke again.

"So what do we do?"

He traced his fingers gently over her collarbone. She shivered a little and smiled. "Why don't we go to dinner? That seems safe enough." His fingers drifted lower, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Okay. But, I think…If we're gonna try something normal…" she bit her lip, looking nervous. "I think maybe we shouldn't—"

He understood what she meant and shifted her off his lap, though reluctantly. "Yes. We shouldn't, for a while, I suppose."

She stared at him, her eyes drifting down to his mouth. Her tongue came out, slowly running along her bottom lip, and he bit back a groan. "Anna-Marie, that is not enticing me to leave you alone."

"Oh, right." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "It's just…now I'm all sort of hot and bothered, and—"

"Continue with that and you'll be back on my lap again." .

"Though I wasn't supposed to follow your orders now, _sir_," she said pertly, and he leaned over and tugged her hair.

"I'm not averse to that sort of play, as you've noticed. But surely you understand why, if we are to attempt to figure this out between us, we should…refrain, for the time being, until things are a bit clearer?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I do." The slight tone of reluctance in her voice made him want to pull her back on his lap again. He restrained himself with effort.

He started the car and drove them back to the mansion, both of them lost in their own thoughts. When he'd had pulled through gate onto the driveway, she placed a hesitant touch on his shoulder. He looked at her expectantly.

"Wanda. She's my closet friend. I can't do this—go to dinner with you—and _not_ tell her."

"You may talk to her if you wish. I shall have to speak to Charles, at any rate." His voice hardened. "I may have to leave. He could always forbid this, though I suppose we shall deal with that if and when it happens."

"I'm eighteen," she said in a determined voice. "If I want to go out to dinner with you, I will, and there really ain't nothing he can say about it even if it's the craziest idea in the whole world."

He smiled despite himself. "What a charming turn of phrase you have, my girl."

She smiled at the endearment, which made him relax somewhat. "You know any better way to describe it?"

He parked the car in the garage, feeling the various gears and systems within the car shut down and quiet with a thought. "Not really." He opened her door for her with a wave of his hand.

They were silent as they entered the house. At the top of the stairs, he paused and reached out to lightly draw his fingers down her cheek. "Good night, Anna-Marie."

"Good night, Erik," she said quietly, leaning close to him for a moment. "They did tell us to try and get along. Won't they be surprised." She pressed her cheek to his chest for the briefest of moments, before hurrying off without a backwards glance.

He smiled and backed away into the shadows, watching as she turned and headed off towards her room. This was insane, but when had that ever stopped him?

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PyroMac: Thanks! And I don't know, but there should be a lot of Magneto Rogue stories, in my opinion, but then again I'm a bit biased. Do check out Miss Information and Willowaus, both writers on this site, who write great Magneto Rogue stories. Thanks for reading!

Nercia Genesis: Yes, thank you, now I have a frightening mental image thanks to that song, which shall forever remind me of my childhood and Vanilla Ice. I'm old, though, as now you probably know with the VI reference. Anyway, thanks, and if there's something wrong with you for liking that chapter with Charles and Jean, then I suspect there's something REALLY wrong with me for writing it. Hope you enjoy the…Mogue?...in this one. 

Lady Leelai: Thanks! Yes, I know, the CharlesXJean is a bit insane, isn't it? I can't resist, I'm just demented like that. Anyway, do hope you enjoy the MagnetoXRogue chapter! Thanks as always for reading!

AngelofSnow: (Pretty username!) Thank you! I am so glad you're enjoying the story and that you liked the CharlesXJean. Yes, it is very much like a car crash, that was exactly what I was going for, so good to hear it worked! And YAY for converting you to MagnetoXRogue! It's my beloved OTP and I'm frightfully obsessed. Yes, there will be a sequel to Ideology, as a matter of fact. It's called "Eschatology" and I shall be posting it in a few weeks once I have a few more chapters done. Hope to see you along for the ride, and thanks for reading!

Miss Information: I nearly choked on my diet coke at "Doing the psychic nasty". Hee! Yes, it's insane, isn't it? I can't help it, that dynamic is so wrong and delicious. Anyway, thanks, and I hope you like this one!

Daray Aeryn: Thanks! Yes, of course she broke up with Scott first! Jean's not that horrible. Hee! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Munchlette Belle: Incoherent is good! I'm glad you liked it, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

Archmagus: Hee! I'm enjoying everyone's slightly horrified-yet-intrigued responses to this chapter. Thanks for your feedback and hope you enjoy the update!

Jdehn: Yeah, the idea of it is a bit squicky (obviously why I love it so), but I am glad you found it a little interesting. Hee! Thanks for reading, hope you like the new chapter!

IvyZoe: Hee! You used capital letters! I'm glad that you liked the chapter and the inappropriate little interlude with Charles and Jean. Slightly psychotic, but fun, yeah? Hope you enjoy the next chapter and thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

Broken and Betrayed: Thanks, and I am glad to hear things are going better for you. I appreciate your reading and reviewing, and I hope you like this chapter!


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: **I'm back from my tropical Mexican vacation (which was lovely!) and here's the next part of _Progression_! In this chapter, Wanda's a little shocked by Rogue's revelations, and Magneto has a chat with Charles. Enjoy! Thanks, as always, for reading!

**Chapter 20**

"I have to tell you something."

Wanda broke an egg into the large silver bowl and looked up sharply at Rogue's words. Her friend had been acting really weird for the last week, so it would be nice to finally know what was wrong. Wanda wasn't the world's most empathetic person, and Rogue's continual skittish behavior was becoming sort of annoying.

"Yeah?" She tossed the broken egg aside and read the directions. "Hand me the butter, would you?"

Rogue opened the fridge and retrieved the butter. "Here."

"Thanks." Wanda measured out the correct amount and added it to the bowl. They were making cookies, which was a pleasant diversion on a Sunday afternoon. Pietro was out doing things Wanda probably didn't want to know about, Lance had taken Kitty and the rest of their housemates to the mall (Wanda was having a hard time imagining Fred in _Pacific Sun_), which meant she and Rogue had the house to themselves. "What's up?"

"Um, you know I like you, right?"

Startled, Wanda looked up. That sounded ominous, which she didn't like. The plates in the kitchen cabinet rattled and the mixer turned itself on. "Oops."

"Maybe—maybe this isn't a good time," Rogue said suddenly, backing up. Her eyes were wide. "I don't want to upset you or anything."

With effort Wanda calmed herself down. "Please, just tell me. I'll try—my control's getting better." Just the other day, Pietro had taken twenty dollars from her wallet and she managed to get it back from him without breaking a single thing in the house. Wanda considered that an achievement of which to be proud.

"God, I just…I don't know how to say this." Rogue stepped closer and looked at her, obviously troubled. She reached out and moved the bowl to the rest on top of the oven, which was pre-heating. "Here. Let this butter soften on the stove while you mix the dry ingredients. It makes the cookies softer."

Wanda nodded solemnly. "I can see how that was really hard for you to tell me," she deadpanned.

Rogue smiled a little. "You know I'm not a very good cook, so I don't usually offer advice."

"That isn't it, though, is it? Whatever it is, it's been bothering you for a few weeks." Wanda pulled out the flour and measured the correct amount, dumping it in the bowl.

"I just want to make sure you know that I think you're…you're my best friend," Rogue said simply.

Wanda tensed, but not because she was unhappy. It was just a strange thing to hear, because she was fairly sure she'd never had a best friend in her entire life. "Thanks. It really…I'm glad," she said huskily, looking down as she continued to mix the dry ingredients.

"And, like, I'd hate if you didn't want to be my friend anymore."

Wanda slammed her hand down on the counter in a temper. "Would you just tell me already? This is worse than tearing off a damned band-aid. Say what it is you want or be quiet already."

Rogue sucked in a breath next to her. "I'm sort of…I think I'm…involved somehow with your father."

Wanda looked at her. "You know, I'm trying to be nice here, but it's hard. Very funny. Now really, _what_ is it?"

"That's…that's it, actually." Rogue bit her lip. "It's really strange, but that's what it is."

Wanda blinked. "You're…no. You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding," she said, voice almost desperate.

Rogue shook her head. "I'm not."

The water faucet turned itself on, and the lights began flickering. "Rogue, this isn't funny," Wanda pleaded. "Please, just don't tease me, I'm still---I'm still working on the power control thing, you know."

"I'm not kidding. Wan, listen to me, I'm as surprised as you—" Rogue took a step towards her, and Wanda held her hand up.

"No, Rogue, I really don't think that's possible." Things were beginning to slide off the counter, including the flour, and Wanda felt herself start shaking. _Control, control, you have to try…_ It wasn't working. It felt like…like _betrayal_.

Her eyes narrowed, and Wanda felt the power begin to build around her. "You better get out of here," she growled, feeling the hex powers begin to take over that rational part of her brain. _God, not again!_

"Okay, Wan, listen to me. You can make this whole place fall down but I ain't leaving. I know this is really weird, but I still want to be your friend and if you can't ever talk to me again I won't have anything to do with him." Rogue's voice was very soft, but firm.

Wanda took a breath, pushing the powers back, not hearing Rogue's words as much as her voice, calm and insistent.

Rogue moved closer. "I'm not afraid of you, Wan. I know what it's like to have powers you can't control. If you want to rip this place apart, just try to not bury me in something gross like your brother's laundry."

Wanda laughed weakly, grateful that the surge was beginning to dissipate. "Oh, God. You're dating my _father_?" She started giggling at the absurdity of it, the sound bordering on hysteria. "How in the hell did that happen?"

"Um, it's sort of…" Rogue blushed. "It's a long story. But I kind of still don't like him, which is weird I know, and he thinks I'm annoying, but…" she shrugged.

"My _father_," Wanda repeated, leaning against the counter. "Here I thought you had a crush on my _brother_."

Rogue leaned down to pick up the bag of flour. "Yeah."

"Is it…is it serious?" Wanda began picking up the dishes that had fallen, grateful that only two had shattered. "Watch out for the glass."

Rogue wiggled her gloved hands. "Protected, see? And I don't know. It wasn't at first, but we were sort of using each other for—"

"No! Please don't finish that sentence!" Wanda backed up, her eyes wide. "Does my brother know?"

"No one does, but you," Rogue said, carrying bits of broken glass to the trashcan. "I guess maybe the Professor, too, if Erik talked to him."

"You call him by his first _name_?" The lights flickered again, and Wanda closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm trying, really I am, but…Rogue, this is crazy!"

"Oh, I know that. It might never…it might never be anything."

"But it might be something." Wanda watched Rogue carefully. "Right?"

Rogue stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "It might be, yeah."

"Was he even going to tell me?" More rattling ensued; Wanda curtailed her powers with an effort. She felt frazzled. "Maybe we should leave the kitchen."

"Okay," Rogue said quickly, and grabbed her coat. Wanda followed suit and the two of them went outside into the cold winter air, the ground lightly covered by snow.

They ended up in the garden behind the greenhouse, a twisted wreck of a thing with broken glass and scary remains of vine-like plants snaking out and covering the sides. "Do you ever go in there?" Rogue asked curiously, peering at the remains of the little building.

"Are you kidding?" Wanda looked at the greenhouse and shuddered. "No. It's worse in the summer and in the spring. Mutant plants live in there," she said, smiling at Rogue a little, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that…. "So, um…"

"Look, I'm really—I just wanted you to know." Rogue said quickly, her hands twisting together. She looked nervous, but Wanda didn't think it was because of her hex powers being so volatile. No, she feared Wanda's _disapproval_ more than anything.

That was a novel idea. "It's just so… I mean, we're the same age," Wanda said, though of course such things weren't unheard of. "Do you think you're…are you in love with him?" The words were clumsy in her mouth, and she flushed almost as red as her jacket.

Rogue was staring up at the grey clouds. "No," she said carefully. "I don't think I am. I don't know, not really. I'm not real sure about how any of this happened, but I have to—" she shook her head a little. "If you don't want me to, Wanda, I won't."

"You would do that? If I said it bothered me?" Wanda tried very hard to keep the surprise from her voice, but she didn't think it was working very well.

"Well, yeah," Rogue said with a shrug, then smiled. "I mean, you're my friend. That's more important than anything, ain't it?"

Warmth spread through her at that, and Wanda grinned. "Yeah. Guess so. But it's okay. Weird, but okay." She held a hand up. "Don't ever talk to me about…you know."

Rogue flushed. "God, no. I won't." Her gaze was sharp despite her embarrassment. "Really? You don't mind?"

"I don't know that I don't _mind_," Wanda said honestly. "It's just so strange maybe I haven't really wrapped my mind around it yet."

"Neither have I," Rogue muttered.

"You used to hate him," Wanda reminded her.

"So did you," Rogue said, her tone slightly defensive.

"I know," she said, standing up. She brushed snow off of her lap. "It's starting to snow. We should go back inside. I'm okay, I promise."

Rogue stood up. "I know you are." She linked her arm through Wanda's. "You know why I like you? You ain't afraid of me. You let me do this." She smiled shyly. "Your father—I think maybe it's the same. He actually finds my power more attractive than—"

"Hello," Wanda said, wincing. "Remember what I said? And I like you because you are the only person I know who would tell me something that might upset me and then not run away."

"We're two of a kind," Rogue sing-songed, skipping. Wanda was happy her friend's mood seemed so vastly improved, but it was still making her brain bleed a little to think about what Rogue had just told her.

"I'm not ever calling you _mom_," Wanda informed her, and Rogue laughed.

"We're just going to dinner, Wan," Rogue said, shaking her head. "You never know. We may end up trying to kill each other again."

"We're so going to end up on the _Dr. Phil Show_," Wanda lamented. "I can just see it."

ooooooooOOOOOOOOoooooooo

"I need to speak with you, Charles."

Erik had no idea how this conversation was going to go, or if he would be told to leave immediately after its conclusion. He walked into Charles' study, noticing for a moment that his friend seemed a million miles away, his eyes distant and his face tense.

"Yes, Erik?"

He sat down on the chair in front of Charles' desk without waiting for an invitation to do so. "It's about Rogue," he began, wondering how on earth he was going to say this. Perhaps Charles already knew, which would explain the other man's glower.

Charles gave him a pointed glare over steepled fingers. "Erik, I honestly don't know what to do about this anymore. I told you to find a way to get along, and I expect that if that isn't possible, you should at least try and ignore each other as much as you are able."

_So he's not been reading my mind, then._ Honestly, Erik was surprised. Here he was, doing very inappropriate things with one of Charles' _students_ under than man's own roof and he didn't know…Telepathic powers were wasted on the overly moral. "Actually, Charles, we've been getting along…extremely well…lately."

Charles raised a brow at him. "Ah. Well, then, I'm glad to hear it." His eyes narrowed speculatively. "This is what you wished to speak to me about? Did you expect some sort of praise for learning to play well with others?"

"Not exactly," Erik said slowly, trying not to think about how well he'd learned to play with Rogue. "Charles, is something the matter?" There was something about the other man that seemed completely unsettled, which was highly unusual.

"No," Charles said shortly, then closed his eyes. "I'm just…dealing with a few things at the moment. So, I'm to expect you have some other reason for wishing to speak to me about Rogue?"

"Yes," Erik said, thinking of how best to explain to Charles what had happened without going into too much detail. It would not do to explain the origins of him and Rogue's…whatever it was they had. "We've…it appears perhaps we've fallen into that old cliché that often happens to people who start out with an intense dislike."

"Meaning?"

Erik clenched his jaw. "Do you honestly need me to spell it out, Charles?"

"Possibly, if you're going to sit here and tell me that you're involved with my under-aged student, yes." Charles voice was dangerous.

"She's eighteen," Erik reminded him.

"Erik, you are not…you cannot do this. It's…." he waved a hand. "Morally reprehensible."

"Oh, Charles, do stop being so pedestrian," Erik snapped, irritated. He raked a hand through his hair. "She's perfectly old enough to see whom she wishes and you know it."

"She is the same age as your children!"

"Are you under the assumption I'm not aware of this?" Erik smiled briefly. "Do you think this is the first time in history that a man has dated a younger woman?"

"Erik, this is absurd. You're too old for her—"

"Well, you know, thanks to that Super Soldier chamber I look younger than _you_--"

"That's neither here nor there," Charles snapped, his face flushed with anger. "The fact still remains that it is utterly inappropriate."

Erik wasn't entirely surprised that Charles was objecting to what Erik had told him, but he was rather surprised at Charles' vehement reaction. "Charles, we're going to have dinner. I'm not planning to debauch the girl on the couch in the living room, for God's sake."

"She is of legal age to do whatever she wants, Erik, I realize this," Charles said in a low voice, his temper barely leashed. Strangely, the angrier he became, the calmer Erik felt. This was quite unusual, actually, considering the reverse was usually true. "Still, she isn't old enough to know the potential ramifications of her actions."

"What, in having dinner?"

Charles slammed his hand on the desk. "She doesn't know any better, but _you_ should."

Erik stood up, slowly. "I realize this upsets you. If you want me to leave, I will. However, since you have no legal grounds to keep me from taking Anna-Marie to dinner if I wish—"

"You use her real name?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Of course. I am hardly going to address her as 'Rogue' all the time, that's absurd."

"Coming from a man who calls himself _Magneto_--"

Erik grinned. "I'm not arguing that, but at least I came up with something. _Professor X_ sounds like you are starring in some rather shady adult films, you know."

Charles shook his head. "You will never change, Erik," he said, then surprised Erik by sighing. "I'm—you're right, of course. If Rogue is amenable to having dinner with you, I suppose there is nothing I can do about it." He didn't sound terribly pleased.

"Well, there _is_, but you won't do that." Erik pointed out, sitting down again. Some of the tension abated, though Charles still looked upset.

"How did this happen, if I may ask? I haven't noticed the two of you behaving any differently towards each other."

He should have expected that question. "It's rather difficult to explain. We've just…formed a bond, you might say."

Charles' gaze was bright. "And you see absolutely nothing wrong with this? Being so much older, and in a position of authority over her?"

Memories stirred unbidden at Charles' words, and Erik pushed them back with effort. Now was not the time for such ruminations, pleasant though they may be. "No. Then again, you know how I am. I assume I'm in a position of authority over everyone. I'd never get dates if I let that bother me." He smiled slowly. "Some people find authority attractive, Charles."

Charles looked away. "I still think it's unethical."

"Old friend, you and I have disagreed over ethics for the last however many years. I don't think that is ever going to change." He stood up, sensing it would be a good time to leave. "So should I pack my things or not?"

Charles was staring up at the ceiling. "What? No. No, you don't have to. Though, Erik—" Charles' gaze sharpened—"This is dinner. If you hurt, abuse, or take advantage of her in any way, I'll do something much worse than ask you to leave. She is my responsibility."

Erik gave him an affronted look. "I am a gentleman, you know. Besides, I'm not a randy seventeen year old. I can control myself." Perhaps this was hypocritical of him, considering what he and Rogue had already done. That was in the past, however, and they'd made a tentative plan to…start over, as it were.

"See that you do. This smacks enough of impropriety for you to go adding anything else into the mix."

Erik's patience with Charles' lecturing was wearing thin, so he left that one alone. He turned and walked towards the door, stopping when he heard Charles' voice behind him.

"Are you going to tell your children?"

"We're going to dinner Charles, not the courthouse," Erik snapped, the metal doorknob twisting under his powers. "Though I know Anna-Marie and Wanda are close, and she has told me that she'll speak with my daughter."

"Be discreet. I don't want this to become gossip," Charles continued, still in that same tone that reminded Erik of his English tutor from when he was a child.

"Once again, your faith in my morals is—"

"Understandably low. Erik, are you ever going to tell Wanda what you did?"

If there was one subject he had no wish to broach, this was most certainly it. "I don't believe I wish to discuss this with you at the moment. Good day, Charles." With that, he left the study, using his powers to close the door behind him firmly.

Rogue was in the foyer, her back to him, brushing the snow off her boots, when he came around the corner from Charles' office. "Good afternoon."

Rogue jumped at the sound of his voice, then turned around and smiled at him hesitantly. "Hi. I just…um, I just went over to talk to Wanda."

"I just spoke with Charles."

They stared at each other for a moment. They were standing a respectable distance apart; anyone who came upon them wouldn't think a thing wrong with their interaction. He wondered, however, if she could feel the growing tension between them, and if she were as aware of him as he was of _her_.

"Wanda was kind of freaked out," Rogue said bluntly. She shrugged out of her jacket, and his eyes strayed to the smooth expanse of skin of her neck. Her cheeks were very pink, either from embarrassment or cold.

"Charles was…he thinks this is inappropriate." He had a sudden flash of her beneath him, hands stretched out above her head, completely submissive.

She eyed him thoughtfully. "So you wanna…forget about it?"

"No," he said, smiling slightly. "Friday at seven, I'll meet you right here." He moved closer to her, reaching out and brushing her lock of white behind her ear. "Don't annoy me too much before then or I'm going to make you buy dinner."

She looked up at him and scowled. "Then we're goin' to MacDonald's," she informed him seriously. "I'm broke."

"A conundrum, then," he murmured, fighting the urge to pull her against him.

"Yeah." She moved closer to him, and his fingers trailed lightly down her cheek in the quickest of touches before her power pulled at him.

The sound of footsteps caused them to pull apart, and he smiled slowly at her, liking the way she watched him with wide, glazed eyes. "Friday, then, is it?"

She nodded without speaking and he turned from her, climbing the stairs, rather pleased. That could have been much, much worse. At least he wasn't trying to find a room in the middle of a snowstorm, and at least his daughter wasn't beating down the door to kill him.

All in all, he counted that a success.

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IvyZoe: Hee! I'm glad I surprised you :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Nercia Genesis: Wackos indeed! But it's a fun life, isn't it? I hope you like this next "Rogneto" chapter, and Mexico was indeed very lovely. Thanks for reading!

Lady Leeli: Yes, Magneto is taking things a bit more seriously, though I'm not sure what exactly that means yet, haha. I hope you enjoyed this chapter--I tried to keep the melodrama to a believable level, though with enough angst in there to make in interesting. Thanks so much for reading and for the lovely review!

LizaGirl: Hope you enjoyed the Wanda and Rogue scene here! Thanks for reading!

Jerikojak: Welcome to the insanity that is fanfic! It's a hobby that quickly becomes an obsession, let me tell you. And thank you so very much for all the nice compliments on my writing, it made me blush! I am always really happy to hear people like both my stories and my take on the characters. I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and thank you for your well-wishes--my vacation was fabulous indeed!

XChocolateChipX: Your username makes me want a cookie! Thank you for the review, and for reading! I hope you liked this latest chapter, and yay for the wrongness that is Charles/Jean! Glad I'm not the only one who enjoys that :)

Miss Information: I do hope this "Confrontation" chapter lived up to the potential! I wanted it to be both believable and slightly melodramatic without descending into heights of silliness. Or something. Anyway, enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Archmagus: Hee! The Perverted Old Men's Club, indeed. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Angel Protectress: Ah, a new name! Glad you are enjoying my demented pairings and the story both. Hope you like the new chapter, thanks for reading!

PyroMac: I do know there should be a lot more Magneto and Rogue fics, so I'm trying to make that happen! Thank you for reading, and for the review! I hope you like this chapter :)


	21. Chapter 21

** AN: **My apologies on the delay for the update! I had a vacation, then my beta did, and then she moved and was without internet for a bit. So, at long last, an update! Bear with me, as I'll be traveling again this week, but hopefully I won't go that long without an update again. Thanks for reading!

**  
Chapter 21**

Jean smiled as she watched Charles—it was getting easier to think of him as that, now, the longer they spent time together—calmly having his dinner as he spoke with Logan. She wondered if it were completely obvious that she was so…well, _infatuated_.

She toyed with her spaghetti, not especially hungry, and thought about last night. They'd had a productive conversation about how to handle the media who kept calling and asking for interviews. Jean had caught Kurt on the phone, saying, "Well, yes, we really _do_ appreciate donations of gift certificates to local burger establishments," and had to remind him how much he'd liked detailing the X-Jet. That had apparently worked, and he'd hung up the phone without seeking further free lunches.

She and Charles had discussed a strategy for dealing with further inquiries, and then….things had progressed rather as she'd hoped they might, and the only thing that put a black mark on the whole evening was that he felt somehow he was taking advantage of her, and she couldn't bear for him to think that, because he wasn't. She wanted him very much, and she was _thrilled_ that he wanted her in return.

She did feel mildly guilty about Scott, however. A few days after they'd broken up, she'd gone to him to try and apologize. All he'd said was that he understood she needed her space, and she'd been careful not to peek into his thoughts to see what else he may have been thinking. Afterwards, he'd been perfectly polite—if not a little chilly—to her, which she supposed was to be expected. She hadn't told him about Charles. She wasn't sure anyone needed to know about that just yet.

"Jean, far be it from me to interrupt whatever happy thoughts you're currently having, but would you please pass me the water?"

Jean shook herself out of her reverie and looked to her right, where Magneto was sitting, and had apparently had asked her three times for her to pass him the pitcher of ice water on the center of the table. She noticed it was strange that Rogue was sitting next to him, and didn't appear to be eating much, either.

"Ah, the water, Miss Grey?"

"Oh!" Jean flushed red and reached out to find the pitcher, passing it to Magneto. "I'm sorry. Usually you just levitate things over if you need them."

"And I would have, if that was not considered dreadful table manners."

"Whatever, the pitcher's made out of _glass_," Rogue muttered, and Jean watched everyone tense slightly at her words, expecting some sort of uncomfortable situation between the two of them, since they never could seem to stop playing off of each other. They both had a temper, and sometimes dinner was a bit…well, loud.

Magneto, however, just shrugged. "Perhaps someone should toss a nickel at the bottom next time," he said simply, and Rogue laughed. Really laughed, too, and that was enough to make Jean give the other girl a considering look.

Rogue stared back almost challengingly. "What? Sometimes he's funny." She picked up her knife and attacked her dinner roll, a slight flush on her face.

"Thank you," Magneto said dryly, exchanging a look with her, and Jean had the strangest idea that—

_No. Not possible. Maybe Rogue finally took my advice about not hating him anymore, but that's got to be it. Just because I'm seeing an older man doesn't mean everyone is._

Her gaze strayed back to Charles, who was watching Magneto with narrowed eyes. She could almost feel hostility radiating off of him, though Magneto continued eating and apparently didn't notice.

_Is something the matter?_ she asked Charles, concerned.

_Nothing I wish to discuss now, my dear,_ came his reply, and Jean was suffused with pleasure at the endearment, so much so that she pulled her roll apart and nibbled on it with little enthusiasm. She just wanted dinner to be _over_.

The door to the dining room opened and Kitty blew in, looking frazzled her hair in her face and her book bag slung over her shoulder. "Oh my gosh, like, I'm sorry I'm so late," she said quickly, collapsing in the empty seat next to Kurt. "Did any of you guys see the news?"

Jean passed her the pasta bowl of spaghetti. "No, why? Did something happen?"

"They'retryintopssmtntregact—"

"Kitty, perhaps you should finish that bite first," Charles said politely, and Kitty swallowed her bite of roll and grinned sheepishly as she dished a healthy portion of pasta on her plate.

"Sorry. I was watching a special about they were trying to pass the Mutant Registration Act," she said, upending half the bottle of parmesan cheese on her pasta and shaking it vigorously. "They used us as an example."

"Of why they should?" This from Magneto.

"Yeah." Kitty looked up at him. "You know, I used to think you were, like, crazy for living on an asteroid. Now it doesn't seem like such a bad idea."

Jean had to hide her laugh with a cough, but she didn't do a very good job. To his credit, Magneto didn't appear bothered. "Yes, well, perhaps that was a foolish idea. Then again," he said, raising his voice slightly and looking over at Charles, "Perhaps it was ahead of its time."

"Maybe without the mutating machine," Scott said under his breath, and Kurt laughed. Magneto glared at him but said nothing.

"Although the pods were sort of fun, like a ride," Kurt offered, his tail sneaking towards the bread basket.

Jean moved the napkin-covered basket smoothly with her telekinesis, away from Kurt's grasp. "If you would just ask, Kurt, someone would probably hand you a roll."

"Anyway, it's gotten kind of crazy. They're having protests and stuff." Kitty's eyes lit up. "Just like the civil rights movement or something. We should go!"

"People died in those protests," Scott reminded Kitty, but he looked thoughtful.

"What, you won't die to keep us from bein' all locked up and branded like cattle?"

Surprised, Jean looked over at Rogue after she spoke. Magneto made an appreciative sound, and Charles was back to glaring again, and suddenly Jean had a really frightening idea.

_He's trying to sway her to his side!_ She wondered if she should tell Charles, but she remembered his telepathic admonition from earlier and kept both her words and her thoughts to herself.

"What would protesting do to stop that?" Kitty asked, shrugging. She filled up her glass with water.

"Nothing, Shadowcat," Magneto said quietly, standing up. "Nothing at all. If you'll excuse me, I believe I'm finished." He nodded to Rogue, which surprised Jean but only confirmed her suspicions, and left carrying his plate.

Rogue watched him go, then looked up at Jean with narrowed eyes. _You in my head, Grey?_

_You know I wouldn't do that without permission._ Jean responded, a bit hurt.

"Sorry," Rogue muttered, sitting back in her seat. She toyed with her food, but didn't leave the table. Jean had the distinct feeling that she wanted to, though.

"I still think we should show up at the protests, with a sign, maybe," Kurt said, helping himself to what had to be his six-thousandth roll. "Let the world know the X-Men are not going to support that law."

"I think perhaps we should stop discussing politics at dinner," Charles interjected smoothly. "All of you have classes to think about, and homework. We'll save the political strategizing for another day."

"I just wanted to mention it," Kitty said, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I didn't mean to like, start a fight or anything."

"Don't worry about, Kitty," Scott said, smiling at her. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's good to know what's going on. No one wants to be kept in the dark." He stared down at his plate, and Jean noticed _his_ dinner was mostly untouched, too.

_Oh, no. Does he know? We've been so careful--_

_He doesn't know, Jean._

Surprised, she looked over at Charles, her fork poised with a bite of spaghetti halfway to her mouth. _How…how do you know that he doesn't?_

_Because I checked._ Charles was sipping his glass of iced tea and nodding to Amara, who was talking to him about a project for her psychology class.

_Is that…should you do that?_ It felt wrong, somehow, like an invasion of Scott's privacy.

_I'm afraid so. Things could become difficult if our…relationship…was made public knowledge at this point in time._

Jean was trapped between being happy he called what they had a _relationship_, and concerned that he was reading Scott's mind without permission. Still, she supposed he was right—after all, if Scott knew about them, maybe he'd leave the team. That would be disastrous. The kids looked up to him so much, and they needed strong leaders, especially if that Mutant Registration Act were to pass.

Jean shrugged off her concerns and took a few bites more of her dinner, then gratefully helped clear the table. She pretended to be tired in order to escape having to watch some _American Idol_ rip-off with some of the others, and later that night, she crept quietly down the hallway to Charles' room.

Once there, she brought up her concerns about Rogue to him, seated in her usual spot in front of the fireplace with her head on his knees. He played idly with her hair as she spoke.

"That's not exactly what he's doing, though perhaps it's part of it," Charles said slowly, and Jean had her eyes half-closed under the caress of his fingers in her hair. "Though I'm not sure that I should discuss this with you, Jean. It may perhaps be a breech of confidence to do so."

Jean looked up at him. "Rogue barely ate at dinner," she said slowly, her mind racing.

"Neither did you," he murmured, fingers light on her jaw. Her head tipped back further.  
"Is that somehow significant?"

"Actually, yes. I didn't eat a lot because I'm—" she blushed, lowering her eyes, unsure she wanted to say this out loud. _You know…._

The light brush of his fingers ghosted over her lips, and she knew that he understood. "And Rogue, she sat next to Magneto. She never does that." Her body was suddenly flushed and warm, and she wondered if it was something he was doing to her on purpose, or if it was merely a result of his touch. "It wouldn't be the first time that a girl had a crush on an older man," she said, smiling a little. "And they hated each other so much, maybe she decided to stop hating him and start finding him attractive."

"Do you?"

Jean sat up at that, her eyes wide, more than a little surprised he'd asked. "_Magneto_? Not really. I can see why Rogue would, though. She has the thing for guys who are a little shady. Remember that Cajun henchman of Magneto's that kidnapped her?"

Charles smiled, and she felt his amusement at her casual slang. "I do indeed. I had hoped he may consider joining us, but I've not heard from him since after Apocalypse fell. Nor has Erik, to my knowledge."

"Charles, you…you know what's going on with Magneto. Is Rogue…is she in any kind of danger?" Jean gave him a worried look.

"I do not believe she is, though I can't be certain. My judgment in such cases has become understandably clouded." He tugged her hair lightly.

"So that _is_ what is going on," Jean mused. She smiled. "Does he know? That she has…" she searched for the right word. _Crush_ seemed too juvenile, somehow. "…an interest in him?"

"Oh, he knows," Charles said darkly, then shook his head. "Let's not speak further of this, Jean. They're adults and may make their own decisions, though I heartily disapprove. Though I suppose that's rather hypocritical of me, considering…" he trailed off, his face shadowed. She could feel his guilt again, and it made her sad.

"You never tried to kill me, Charles. You've always been there for me. For _all_ of us. Magneto may be reformed—" her voice was doubtful—"but his past is still the same." She wished he would look at her again, wished he would smile without that terrible sadness on his features, as if he'd committed some crime for which there was no pardon.

"You're a very intelligent young woman. I am, of course, lucky for your affections." He smiled, and Jean felt a slight brush against her body, like fingers sliding up her spine. She shivered, and realized that they were done talking for the evening.

This was fine with her. Rogue would get over whatever infatuation she had with the older mutant—it wasn't like Magneto was _interested_ in her, was it? With a shrug, she let her worries fall away beneath Charles'caresses, thrilling to the way he shared his desire with her and brought them together in a rush of warm, delicious want.

She could worry about things in the morning. They didn't have a lot of time alone together, and she wanted to make the most of it.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Kitty went to her bedroom following the reality show they'd been watching, though she wasn't really ready to go to bed. She had a lot to think about. Namely Lance, who still was being really weird about them sleeping together.

Not to mention, she'd been watching the news at the Brotherhood house, and their reactions to the proposed Mutant Registration Act had been a _lot_ louder than her housemates'. They had shrieked and thrown things, and at one point, Pietro had to grab Wanda and keep her from short-circuiting the television.

"Would it be that bad?" Kitty had asked idly, which had prompted a twenty-minute shout-fest with everyone—even Fred, who Kitty rarely heard _speak_--lecturing her about the horrible things that would result from the act being passed into law.

Finally, she'd had to shout that she'd only been _asking_, though she supposed she was a little impressed by their reaction. At least they had an opinion. Apparently that was different than _here_, where everyone made a joke and then went right back to eating dinner.

Except for Magneto, of course. And Rogue, oddly enough. Though Kitty knew her roommate liked to be irritated about all sorts of things, so that really wasn't a surprise. Her agreeing with Magneto was certainly weird, though, because Kitty thought Rogue might knit Mystique a sweater for Christmas if Magneto said it was a bad idea.

Rogue was standing in their room, staring in her closet with a look of consternation on her face. There was a small mountain of clothes tossed on the bed rather haphazardly, and they all looked the same to Kitty. Mainly because they were all black.

"Hey. What're you doing? You usually don't plan out your next day's wardrobe in advance." Kitty smiled and flopped down on her bed.

"I…I ain't doin' that. I'm…" Rogue sighed. "I sort of have…I have a date. On Friday."

Kitty sat up, immediately intrigued. "You—you do? Really?"

"Well, you ain't gotta sound so shocked," Rogue muttered, critically examining a long, floor-length purple skirt in velvet, trimmed with black lace. She sighed and put it back in the closet.

"I'm not _shocked_ that someone wanted to go out with you," Kitty explained. "I'm just surprised you said yes. Who is it?"

Rogue was suddenly very intent upon staring at her clothing again. "It's…his name is…Erik."

Kitty wracked her brain for someone she knew with that name, but she kept drawing up a blank. "You mean…Eric Samuels? The baseball player?" He seemed like the last guy Rogue would want to date—tall, blonde and athletic, he was more Kitty's type before she fell for Bayville High's resident bad boy—but hey, what did she know?

"Ew, no. He's an idiot. He told me he thinks being a mutant is like havin' a disease." She snickered. "He's just mad 'cause he ain't one. Besides, I ain't dating a human, ever."

Kitty wasn't used to Rogue's sudden mutant-pride, and it made her nervous . "Uh…why not?"

"Because I need someone strong enough so that I don't kill them," Rogue explained slowly, hands on her hips. "Humans are weaker than we are."

"Rogue, that's---" Kitty wasn't sure what to say to that. "Kind of racist, isn't it?"

"No," Rogue said, exasperated. "It's the truth. I've touched y'all and no one dies. I touched that guy in Mississippi and he was in a coma for a week. Just a true fact, Kit. I need to date a mutant that won't keel over dead if he kisses me."

It made sense, but something about her reasoning still left a bad taste in Kitty's mouth. Maybe it was because Kitty really didn't care if someone was a mutant or a human, but then again, maybe she would if she were Rogue. "So, it's a mutant named Eric? Do we know any?"

"Oh, you know him," Rogue sighed, then turned to her. "I need you to promise me you ain't gonna say anything about this. Not that everyone won't know, but I—it's only just the beginning of the week and I ain't real interested in everyone throwin' a fit and botherin' me about it."

"Rogue, do you know how much grief I get for dating Lance?" Kitty laughed. "Go on, tell me." She was almost half-convinced it was Pietro, which may be kind of cool because then they could double-date, but Pietro's name wasn't….

Kitty's eyes widened. She _did_ know a mutant named Erik. It was just that no one ever called him that. "No."

Rogue winced. "You guessed, huh?"

"Are you _serious_? How in the—Rogue, tell me I'm wrong and you're not going on a date with Magneto."

Rogue sighed. "Yeah, I am."

Kitty bounded up, crossing the room to stand next to her friend. "Wha--_how_? I thought you hated him!"

"Well, I mean, he's kinda annoying," Rogue said defensively, then threw her hands up. "I don't know, okay? I mean, I do know, but I don't…can we just not talk about it?"

Hurt, Kitty backed away. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, if you don't want to, you don't have to. You're the one that brought it up, though."

"No, Kit, it's not that. It's just…" Rogue bit her lip, then sighed again. "Look, I just don't want to rehash the whole thing 'cause it's…well, a long story. But I told you because I really need some advice on what to wear. All this stuff makes me look like a kid."

"You are one," Kitty muttered, still shocked.

"No, I'm really not." Rogue fixed her with a sharp glance. "I'm eighteen, but that's not the point. I feel…havin' all these people in my head makes me feel a lot older than I am," she said, pulling out a dark black shirt with blood-red lacing. "I just don't seem to dress like it."

Kitty gave a small laugh at that. "Well, we can fix that. You can borrow something of mine. Where are you going on your date? With Magneto. Your date with Magneto." It was still making her head hurt.

"Yes, my date with Magneto. We're going to…dinner. Don't know where. I just don't want to look like his daughter."

"Well, you and Wanda do practically share the same wardrobe," Kitty said dryly, going to her own closet and beginning to look around.

"That's not what I meant," Rogue muttered, and Kitty shrugged and began pulling things out of her closet.

"Yeah, but, you know what? He's a lot older than you, so people will think that, won't they? Don't try to dress, like, a grandma." Kitty giggled. "This is so scandalous! You should wear something low-cut."

"Kitty!" Rogue blushed. "That's not a good idea, remember?"

"If you don't trust him to keep people from touching you, why do you want to go out with him?" Kitty paused, fingering a delicate silk shell between her fingers, wondering if the red would clash with Rogue's hair.

"Um…" Rogue coughed. "Can you just find me some clothes?"

Kitty grinned. "Sure." She began tossing things at Rogue. "Go put these on in the order in which I hand them to you," she instructed. "And no black lipstick, either. Magneto always looks pretty classy. When he's not, you know. Trying to take over the world."

Rogue rolled her eyes, but didn't disagree with her date's aspirations in regards to mutant-kind. Which was good, at least Kitty thought so, because it meant she wasn't pretending Magneto was something he wasn't.

Rogue smiled a little, her expression almost shy. "Hey, Kit? Thanks. I know this is weird, and I'm keepin' things from you, but…thanks."

"You're welcome. Besides, I'm going to torment you later when I tell you all about my plan to seduce Lance while you're having dinner with Magneto." Kitty shook her head. "We live weird lives."

Rogue snorted. "Compared to Apocalypse? This is boring."

Kitty didn't think she could argue with that, so she didn't even try.


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: **And here we have it, Rogue and Magneto's attempt at a normal, casual date. It goes better than you might think. I hope y'all enjoy, and pardon for my not answering all your reviews personally. I'm in a rush to get this posted before a tedious work event. I appreciate everyone's feedback so much, though. Thank you!

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**Chapter 22**

Rogue checked her appearance in the mirror for what had to be the fiftieth time, pulling with obvious agitation on the lavender shirt she was wearing. She really needed to leave her room and go downstairs, but she was…

_I ain't nervous. I'm just bein' a little late, because you're supposed to do that on dates._

She figured she looked pretty enough; she'd left off the majority of her usual make-up on Kitty's recommendation, but she'd left her hair down because she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard to impress him.

Rogue wasn't even sure she _liked_ Magneto enough to even want to impress him. _Erik_, she corrected herself firmly, finally turning away from the mirror to leave the room. _You ain't calling him Magneto on a date._

She didn't pass anyone in the hallway, which was good; she wasn't in the mood to explain where it was she was going, and with whom. Her heart was hammering loudly in her chest, and her mouth was dry.

This was ridiculous, really, considering what she and Erik had done together. She really shouldn't be nervous about being around him. And maybe she wouldn't be, if she were going to go lay beneath him while he—

She took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt, forcing herself to stop thinking about that as she went down the stairs. He was waiting for her at the bottom, though his back was to her as he looked out of the window pane flanking the door, hands in his pockets.

He turned around as she reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes moving over her slowly. Rogue felt herself flush a little at the brief flash of heat she saw in his eyes. "You look very nice," he said quietly, and she could detect nothing in his expression that suggested he wasn't telling the truth.

"Thanks," she said, swallowing. "So—so do you," she said truthfully, because he really did look nice. He was nicely dressed in black slacks and a black sweater, with a wine-red shirt underneath. The contrast with his pale hair and eyes was striking. He _was_ very handsome.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of pleasure at the thought of going somewhere with him as his date. He did that to her, made her both wary and excited to be around him. She hadn't lied when she'd compared him to a panther. She sort of wanted to pet him.

"Are you ready?" He sounded amused, like he knew what she was thinking. She resisted the urge to glare at him—she was trying to be nice, after all—and nodded.

They drove downtown, both of them mostly quiet, and he parked the car deftly in a parallel parking spot. Rogue was impressed. "I can't ever do that."

"Yes, well, I have the advantage of not needing to look out of the mirror to know where the other car is," he said, switching off the ignition. "Also, if I need more space, I can always nudge the other cars around a bit."

"It must be nice to have a power that's actually practical," she said, rather envious as he locked the doors without looking back. He hadn't even needed a key.

He stared down at her, his eyes intense. "Your gift could be practical if you'd learn to use it. It's simply untapped potential at the moment." He held out his arm for her, and, surprised by his gesture, she placed her gloved hand on his arm before she could talk herself out of doing so.

Rogue didn't say anything to his words, but she thought about it. Was he right? Could she do more with her gift than just temporarily steal powers from other mutants? What could she possibly do that would be as useful—and harmless—as locking a car door?

He smiled down at her, but there was something dark behind it that made her look away. She felt the muscles of his arm tense slightly beneath her fingers, but he ushered her into the restaurant without another word.

During dinner, they had their longest, most amicable conversation to date, and she was slightly surprised to find he was a good conversationalist. They stayed away from dangerous topics and concentrated mostly on her, which she found flattering but also a little disconcerting. She was also finding it hard to stop staring at him—when he was in good humor, he was almost frighteningly charismatic.

Every now and then, she'd catch a glimpse of something hot in his gaze as he looked at her across the table, and it would make her shiver.

Over dessert, the couple at the table next to them began to debate the Mutant Registration Act, and she and Erik both fell silent as they listened. The woman's arguments were along the lines of "saving the world from crazy mutants like that one in Egypt, or that Magneto," and Rogue looked at him, her eyes wide.

He merely rolled his and turned his attention back to his dessert. "Do you see why we are the dominant species, Anna-Marie? This woman is claiming I am the reason we should pass this bill, and she hasn't even the sense to know I'm sitting right next to her."

"Maybe she hasn't seen you," Rogue murmured, her heart racing. She wanted to think it was in fear.

"Watch," he murmured, and stood up. She half-rose from her seat, but found she couldn't move, as there was a distinct tug on the zipper of her skirt keeping her motionless. Narrowing her eyes, she had no choice but to sink back down in her seat.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Erik said politely, his hands his pockets. He smiled benignly. "Do you have the time?"

The woman smiled up at him and told him.

"Thank you," Erik responded, inclining his head to her graciously. "I appreciate it very much." With that, he returned to his seat across from Rogue, and held his finger up to his lips.

"I do so appreciate good manners," the woman said to her companion. "Nowadays, young children just barge up and ask 'Do you know what time it is?' in the rudest manner possible. They could learn something from that nice man."

Erik smirked at her. "See?"

"There are plenty of stupid mutants," Rogue informed him bluntly, pointing her spoon at him. "You know it as well as I do."

"Indeed I do." He leaned back in his seat, gazing at her thoughtfully. "I heard you at dinner, Anna-Marie, the other night. You don't think there should be a Registration Act, either, do you?"

She toyed with her spoon in her chocolate mousse, though she knew it was poor table manners to do so.

"Admitting I'm right about that doesn't make you one of my Acolytes," he murmured, obviously amused. "I heard what you said."

Rogue glared at him. "Just because I don't think paradin' around with a bunch of paper signs is gonna do any good don't mean I think it's a bad idea."

"No, it doesn't." He smiled at her infuriatingly. "But you do think it's a bad idea. Let's not pretend like you don't, Anna-Marie."

His arrogance was both compelling and annoying. "Fine. I don't think it's a good idea. They're gonna find out about me and put me somewhere for 'my own safety' or somethin'." Her accent thickened as she angered further. "I don't need to be saved from myself."

"Of course you don't," he urged her, his voice lowered. "These people would lock us up because they fear us, and nothing will ever change that. No matter what they tell you this so-called policy is designed to do, never forget it's because they know they are a dying breed."

Rogue was finding it hard to breathe as he spoke, his chill eyes lit with the fire of complete and utter conviction. "Erik," she said quietly, frightened by the intensity he was radiating, "I don't—you're not—they just don't understand."

"I see. So we are all to be locked up and exterminated until they do? Do you know what happened to me as a child?"

She nodded slowly, her stomach twisting with nerves. "Of course. I've seen your memories, remember?"

"Yes. And you watch the news, do you not? Have you seen some great understanding rise to take the place of bitterness and hatred toward the Jewish people? Can you tell me it doesn't still exist?"

"People hate a lot of things," Rogue said slowly. "We will never live in a perfect world."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his own. "That is exactly why we must fight, do you not see?" He seemed frustrated. "Charles has this idea that humanity will wake up one day and think we're acceptable if we prove ourselves useful. As if we should have to prove anything to _them_," he hissed, eyes narrowed.

"Erik," she said nervously, tugging at her hand. "You're—you're hurting me."

He blinked, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there. He relaxed his grip but didn't let go of her hand. "My apologies. You did not come here to discuss my ideology, I understand that. However, I would like to tell you something, and I would like you to listen to me. Would you do that for me?"

It was hard to tell him _no_ when he was looking at her like that; when his voice was this coaxing, she imagined he could sell snow to an Eskimo if he had a mind to.

"You told me earlier that you wished you had a practical power. I meant what I said about your gift, that you should be allowed to train, allowed to learn what else it can do for you. However, I'm not so foolish that I did not understand what you were saying to me."

His thumb rubbed lightly over the silk covering her hand; Rogue's breathing caught in her throat. She was beginning to understand exactly what made Erik Lehnsherr so dangerous.

"I will not lie and tell you that your gift is dangerous, that it makes _you_ dangerous." His fingers were rubbing the inside of her wrist, and it was making her dizzy. "I hope you understand, Rogue, that that makes you more of a target for their hate than their acceptance."

He'd used her mutant name, not her human one. She swallowed hard. "I understand," she said quietly, because she did. "He's—the Professor—he gave me a home when Mystique—when _you_--would have used me to fight a war," she said quietly, and she knew that angered him from the brief tightening of his fingers around her wrist.

"Isn't he trying to use you? Oh, but he will, Rogue. He will. The man is willing to risk his life—and yours—for some dream that will never come true. Look deep within yourself and tell me what you see happening first—Xavier's dream reality where human kind accepts us for who we are, or my world, where we have to fight to stay free of their camps?" His voice was hypnotic. "You said yourself that mankind will always find something to hate. Charles' world is one that will never be. I must live in the one that _is_."

"Stop," she said, pulling at her hand again. This time, he released it. "You're confusing me," she said bluntly. Her arm felt like it was burning where he'd been touching it. "I thought you'd decided to join us."

"You never believed that. Never from the first, remember?" He was watching her like a hawk watches a mouse.

"So you're, what? Biding your time?"

He surprised her by nodding. "My faith in my vision and my purpose was shaken after Apocalypse, I'll admit that. Now, however, with this new Registration Act…" he trailed off.

"You think you'll have to leave, soon."

He cocked his head at her. "Do you think Charles will let me stay?"

"Well, he let you have dinner with one of his students," she joked weakly, her mind racing. "That's something."

He smiled, a bit of his earlier fervor fading from his eyes. "Indeed it is. Let us not talk of this anymore, but, Rogue—at some point, I shall have to make a decision. We all will. Do you understand?"

She thought she understood what he was saying, but she wasn't sure. Was he asking if she'd leave with him? How could she answer that? She was—

"Anna-Marie. I didn't mean to vex you. It's neither the time nor the place for such talk." He pushed back from the table and stood up, holding a hand down to her.

"Just one thing," Rogue said softly, remaining in her seat, looking up at him with determination. "Is this just because you want me on your side?"

He didn't bother to pretend not to understand what she meant. "I imagine it would look that way, and I won't lie. I would of course welcome your support." He reached out and drew her up; he was much taller than she, and stronger besides, and she wasn't really resisting him, exactly.

"Though no, it's not my primary motivation. It never has been." His mouth quirked up. "Though I'm not sure at times what that is, exactly, I assure you this is not some attempt to sway you to my way of thinking."

"How am I supposed to believe you?" she asked, voice shaking. "How?"

He looked around, then raked his hand through his hair and loosened his grasp again. He took the small leather folder with the bill and left some money, then motioned to her. "Let us leave and continue this elsewhere."

She followed him, still uncertain, wondering if this had been a mistake. They walked quietly down the street, and she shivered in the cold wind. She'd not dressed for an evening walk, and the night air had become quite chilly.

To her surprise, he draped an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. Unable to relax, she remained tense as she walked beside him, her mind racing. He did not speak as they continued walking, until they arrived at a small park next to the river. They stood at the small pavilion, empty in the winter night, both of them silent.

Finally, he turned her around to face him. "I'm not lying to you, Anna-Marie. I only have one way that I know of to assure you I'm telling the truth." He stared down at her, and the cold moonlight made his face look almost sinister.

She knew to what he was alluding, and pulled her glove off despite the winter's cold. She touched her fingers lightly to his cheek and waited, gasping a little under the pull and searching through the memories and thoughts that rushed in along with his power.

She could feel the press of the railing beside her, felt something heavy sleeping in the depths of the cold river beyond. It was so distracting, she had to focus in order to see what it was he wanted her to see. When she did, she started blushing, because a great many of his thoughts of her were of a carnal nature, and the images made her suddenly warm.

There was something else, there, too—a fascination with her powers, how dangerous it made her. An arrogance to be the one who would overcome them and touch her. "You could just be thinkin' about that so I'd believe you," she muttered, moving closer to him.

His hands settled at her waist, and pulled her hard against him. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "But I'm not."

She could feel that he wasn't lying about wanting her, but that had never really been their problem. "Erik, what it is about me that you want?"

He arched a brow at her, and she shook her head, flustered. "Not that. I mean…_me_, Anna-Marie, not Rogue. Is it just… I mean, is it just that you want me?" Her face was flaming.

"No," he said quietly, one hand reaching up to twine in her hair. At her look, he gave a low laugh. It thrilled down her spine and made her press herself against him. "I do want you. There's…I'm not sure what it is, but there's something. Do you not agree? I have no such luxury of seeing what is in your head, my girl."

"I—I know what you mean. Sort of. I mean I don't know what it is. But it's something." Slowly, she reached her now-gloved hand up and traced it gently over his jaw. She couldn't recall having touched him like this—of her own volition—before.

He sucked in a breath and bent his head, and then he kissed her. His mouth was warm on hers, and she kissed him back until her powers flared up and necessitated that they stop. "We should get back," he murmured, and she nodded, looking up at him in a daze.

They made their way back to the car, and this time, she relaxed against him as they walked. They went back to talking about things other than mutant politics, and he made her laugh with stories about the Professor from when they were younger.

It was very strange, Rogue thought, as he drove them home. She felt more comfortable around him than she did a lot of other people, although she had no idea why this should be so.

"Thank you for dinner," she said, feeling awkward, once he'd parked the car in the garage.

"You're very welcome," he answered, his voice suddenly husky. They stared at each other and suddenly she felt that undeniable spark between them flare up, hot and bright. Rogue licked her bottom lip, which was chafed from the cold weather, but she did so a lot slower than was really necessary.

In less than two seconds, he hauled her unresisting across the seat and onto his lap and his hands were roughly caressing her body though her clothes. Since he couldn't kiss her they stared at each other while he touched her, and she was shaking hard, her hands fisted in his sweater, pressing against him eagerly.

She shifted on his lap and he laid his head back against the seat, his eyes closed, hands tight on her waist. He was breathing very fast, as was she, and she knew they were half a second away from falling into some very familiar territory. She wasn't sure she could pull away if he didn't stop—he smelled good, and his body felt hot and hard and he _wanted_ her, and he felt so wonderful beneath her--

"Damn it," he hissed, shifting her away from him almost desperately. Rogue leaned back against her seat and stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Um," she said, clearing her throat, torn between a desire to flee the car and an equally strong desire to climb back on his lap. "We should…maybe we should get out of the car," she suggested.

"That's a…a good idea," he said gruffly, and all four of the doors opened at once.

Unable to help herself, she clasped her hand to her mouth and giggled. He glared at her, but without any real heat behind it, and she followed him into the house.

"Erik, they're…everyone's gonna know we went out on a date," she said, catching at his hand before they entered the kitchen. "I mean, I ain't told nobody but Kitty, but everybody'll know."

"Does that bother you?" he asked, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

"Well…is this…I mean, are we—" she stumbled over the words, unsure how to ask if this was the first or last time they were ever going to go out on a date.

"Are you asking me if we'll be doing this again?" He smiled at her, and it made heat coil low in her stomach.

"I—I guess so," she mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, most certainly," he said softly, leaning down. "Most certainly." He nipped her ear and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses on her neck until she felt the surge of her powers begin anew.

"Then…no," she gasped, her hands coming up to his shoulders, tilting her head to allow him access to the smooth skin of her throat, covered by a sheer lace scarf. They both pulled apart as she heard the distant sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen, and she was gratified to know she wasn't the only one disappointed that they'd had to stop,

"Good," Erik said softly, a note of possessiveness in his voice, and vanished into the darkness.


End file.
